


Will You Love Me Most?

by mimiwriteswords



Series: Will You Love Me Most? [1]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Christmas, Drama & Romance, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, F/M, Falling In Love, Feelings, Flashpoint - Freeform, Grief/Mourning, Heartbreak, Implied Sexual Content, Jealousy, Lies, Nightmares, Older Man/Younger Woman, Snowells in flashpoint, Team as Family, Time Travel, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:47:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 39,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24193084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mimiwriteswords/pseuds/mimiwriteswords
Summary: “You and Caitlin. You were...together.”
Relationships: Caitlin Snow/Earth-2 Harrison "Harry" Wells
Series: Will You Love Me Most? [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2113719
Comments: 21
Kudos: 59





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This idea popped into my head one evening and I couldn't think of anything else until I finished it. The premise is simple- Harry finds out he and Caitlin were together in Flashpoint and this is the aftermath of that discovery. The title is taken from Someone to Stay by Vancouver Sleep Clinic. 
> 
> It takes a village. Thanks, J, for being my village.

  
  


Here’s the thing- he should not have been surprised.

In fact, it should have been anything _but_ a surprise. It’s as if someone had gotten him mind-numbingly drunk, asked him what his deepest desire was and once he had confessed, told him that it wasn’t just a desire but in fact, a memory. A long forgotten memory….but a memory nonetheless. 

It should not have been a surprise because he’s known on some level that these feelings have been hidden away in his heart, like a locked trunk full of treasure. He doesn’t know when it happened but somehow, at some point over the past year, he’s found a ray of light. Perhaps it was when she approached him at the bar as he sipped his scotch, or maybe when he saved her from Grodd, or when she saved his life. It could have been in the quiet of night, as they worked tirelessly side by side, trying their damndest to help Barry increase his speed. It could have been when after working all night, they decided wordlessly that they were going to watch the sun come up. Bone tired, they stood on the balcony watching the horizon, cups clutched between their hands as the scent of coffee curled in the air. She made her way into his heart, with a slow and steady pace and before he knew it, he was dreading the prospect of returning to his Earth. An Earth that is devoid of Caitlin Snow.

And yet, the feeling of surprise- and shock- had coursed through his veins as Barry, with his clumsy words, changed the course of his life forever.

\---

Harry made his way to the breach room, ready to set sail to Earth-2 despite the hollow feeling in his stomach, when Barry ran into him.

“You’re still here?”

“Yes, try to contain your enthusiasm.” He replied as he pushed his way through the breach room door only to find that the room was empty. His daughter was taking her time as usual. It was comforting to know that even after enduring the horrors she had in the past year, Jesse was still immune to punctuality. 

“No, that’s great, Harry!” Barry says, his face lit up with glee. “If you are still here, that means not much has changed.”

That stops him in his tracks. He turns around slowly, hitching his backpack higher on his shoulder as he turns to face the younger man.

“What on earth are you talking about?” He has a slight inclination of what Barry is talking about but he’s certain that Barry wouldn’t do it….not again, surely.

Barry is quiet for a second, as he shuffles on his feet and runs his hand over his face - a tell tale sign of his guilt.

“Allen.” Harry said. He still feels disconcerted that he uses the same disciplinarian tone, usually reserved for Jesse, on Barry.

Barry avoids looking him in the eye so he takes a breath in, hoping it will help him stay calm and asks, “Did you run back in time?”

Barry sighs, biting his lip and finally looks Harry in the eyes and that is all the confirmation he needs. Harry huffs, dropping his backpack to the ground and runs his hand through his hair in irritation. He is filled with an overwhelming desire to yell at Barry and he has to remind himself- yet again- that Barry is not his child.

“Ok, look it’s not so bad.” Barry exclaims, “You are still here just like back then….when I ran back in time and so that means it couldn't have changed all that much.”

“Allen, that is not how time travel works. You know that! Or have you learned nothing over the past year?!” It is a low dig, he’s well aware, but he feels like a man possessed as the anger bubbles through his blood.

“But I didn’t change anything for you. It’s fine, you are here, aren't you? That means you never left or were always here...or…” Barry frowns. “Were you going to leave or did you change your mind and decided to stay?”

Harry groaned. “You see? The confusion on your face should tell you that it is _not_ fine.”

“But which is it? Are you leaving or staying?” 

“We are supposed to be leaving. She's just...taking her sweet time.” He answers, shaking his head at the fact that he is surrounded by absolute _children_. 

“She must be wiping down her equipment.” Barry says, shaking his head fondly. Harry raises an eyebrow at him, silently asking him to elaborate.

“Oh, you know how much she likes to sterilize. I mean, I get it, I’m a CSI but Caitlin has always been anal about it.”

“Excuse me?” Harry gapes at his words.

“Well, it’s probably just a doctor thing. A medical doctor thing, I mean.” Barry adds, as if suddenly remembering that Harry is also a holder of Phd’s ( _seven_ , thank you very much.)

“What does Snow have to do with me going back home?”

“She’s not going with you?” Barry asked, his face scrunched up into a frown again. 

“Why...why would she be going with me?”

Barry’s quiet again, but the quizzical look on his face has been replaced with a concerned one. It was more than enough to put Harry on edge.

“I shouldn’t answer that.” Barry says, quietly.

“You’ve said enough to make me curious, so answer me.” Harry replied, as anxiety pooled in the pit of his stomach.

“Well, I really shouldn’t be telling you about what I know-”

“No, you shouldn’t be. That’s the first rule of time travel. Oh no, wait….the first rule is _don’t_ time travel.” Harry snapped. “But you’ve done enough damage already, so please continue.”

“Are you sure? Because this might not be something you can walk away from. ”

“Oh good God, Allen. Just spit it out.”

“You and Caitlin. You were...together.”

\---

It’s as if the wind is knocked out of him as soon as he hears those words. He’s engulfed with the sound of his heartbeat, the never ending thud reminding him that he is alive. He gasps audibly as the words sink into him and the sound startles Barry, who takes a step back watching Harry with cautious eyes. He doesn’t need Barry to elaborate on what “together” means because somehow he already knows.

It means a meeting of mind and soul unparalleled to anything he has ever deemed himself worthy to experience. 

"Harry, I…” Barry says softly, clearly grasping for words. “I never knew you felt that way.”

If he didn't feel as shell shocked as he does at the moment, he would have attempted to scoff at Barry’s remark. But he can’t bring himself to put up a brave front and instead whispers in the quiet of the breach room, “Nor I.”

“So you and Caitlin are _not_ -”

He shoots Barry a sharp look, who has the good sense to look contrite as he runs his hands through his hair in frustration.

He’s filled with sudden jealousy for the version of him that lived this life. And to even think it might have been within his grasp in this universe is like pouring salt onto his wounds. He feels torn between shooting Barry for revealing this or begging Barry to somehow run back in time again but take him along this time so he too can live this life.

The rational part of his brain reminds him that time travel does not work quite that way. 

“God, Harry. I am so sorry. I’ve screwed up so bad. I don’t know who else is affected-”

A thought occurs to him and he feels panic surging through his body once again.

“You can’t tell her.”

Barry looks at him, confused. “You don’t think she would want to know?”

“What she doesn’t know can’t hurt her.”

“You know how I feel about keeping people in the dark.” Barry says, a determined look in his eye. “You can’t ask me to-”

“I’m asking you.”

He waits while Barry looks at him, shaking his head in a resigned way that almost makes Harry feel guilty. Barry nods half heartedly, his face masked with pain but Harry continues to hold his ground. He’s done this with Jesse a number of times and he knows that he can make his eyes look cold if he tries hard enough.

“Promise me, Barry. She can't know about this.”

\---

He stays on this Earth, and other than Jesse’s initial look of confusion which is quickly taken over by glee- no doubt because of the chance to see Wally- nobody questions his decision.

In fact, everyone seems relieved to see him stay.

Barry doesn’t look him in the eyes for a few days but it doesn’t sting as much because Caitlin smiles at him all soft and warm, when he walks into her lab the next day.

As fate would have it, he dreams of her that night, his mind filled with scenes of domesticity against a backdrop of golden light. He wakes up in the early hours of the morning and wonders why he feels like he might be fighting memories of a life he’s never lived.

\---

It starts with a cup of coffee, on a cold fall day.

It is unusually cold for an October morning and she wished she could be hunkered down in front of a fire with a good book instead of being confined to her lab. They are on a deadline (when are they not?) and while her lab is one of her favorite places in the world, she feels disenchanted with her work today. She’s sluggish, distracted and finds herself irritated at the smallest things- Cisco’s humming, Barry’s endless sighs and Iris’s chatter. She’s had colleagues that have tested her before and she’s usually able to put them out of her mind when she works. She leaned over her desk a little, letting out a quiet sigh.

“Any progress?”

She shoots up at the sound of his voice, low and rough as always. He walks in, cup in hand and leans towards her screen.

“Interesting.” He places the cup on the desk, a frown coming over his face as he ponders the test she had run.

“I thought so.” She says, looking up at him. “It’s not conclusive, though. I’d like to keep digging here.”

“You’re the expert.”

She chuckles lightly, feeling the tension in her neck dissipate a little. “Well, I never anticipated I’d ever become an expert on meta-humans.”

“I never thought that I’d work with a meta human speedster to fight crime.” He remarks.

“Or have a daughter who is a speedster.”

“Oh, don’t remind me.” He nods at her. “So you’re ok?”

“Yes. I won’t be long.” She answers, angling her head towards her screen. He looks at her for a second as if he’s expecting a different answer, but he nods curtly and makes his way out of the lab.

He’s almost halfway through the cortex when she notices the steaming cup of coffee in front of her. She wheels her chair away from her desk a little and calls after him, “Harry! You forgot your coffee.”

He turns around, walking backwards with slow steps and gives her the slightest smirk.

“Drink up, Snow.”

\---

The coffee is delicious- strong and bold, with a touch of softness from the cream.

She’s utterly surprised that he knows how she takes it. It transports her back to many months ago when they would wander into the kitchen, exhausted from working on Velocity 9 and desperate for a cup. He always seemed so detached in those moments, so incredibly nonchalant, that she had never even considered that it could have been an act.

He’s always been this way, from the first moment she clapped eyes on him.

She figured it was a one-off, a fleeting moment of incredible kindness. But the next morning, as everyone is congregating in the cortex, he wanders in and places a cup next to her hand. He dives straight into a conversation with Barry and Cisco and doesn’t so much as spare a glance at her.

She thinks for a second that it might be his own cup until she leans closer to peek into the cup. It’s got a touch of cream in it and he always drinks his coffee black. She pulls the cup towards her.

Five sips in and she suddenly halts with the cup halfway to her lips as the realization sinks in- she knows how he takes his coffee as well.

\---

And so begins their strange coffee ritual.

It doesn’t happen everyday. But it happens enough that her mind begins to wander down a long forgotten path. 

\--- 

She walks into S.T.A.R Labs, head pounding and heart heavy. She can thank her mother for both afflictions.

She really should know better, considering that it’s been over a decade of an uneasy relationship with her mother. It was silly, she knew, that she still had a childish hope of reconnecting with her. Her father would have been heartbroken to learn that their family had tethered to a point of no return. 

But here was family, she thought as she walked towards the cortex and heard the sounds of laughter flitter down the hallway.

“Caitlin!” Cisco roared from his place behind the desk, his arms crossed behind his head. “You’re back!”

“We missed you.” Barry said, with the same amount of enthusiasm as Cisco but much lower in volume. “You can’t leave us again.”

“Absolutely not!” Cisco said, shaking his head vigorously. “You cannot ever take a personal day. Or a sick day. We need you around here at _all_ times!”

She rolled her eyes at them fondly “I was gone for two days. I’m sure you did just fine without me.”

She would never admit out loud but she’s incredibly glad to be greeted by their complaints of her absence. 

“No, they pretty much whined the whole time.” Harry commented, his head bent over a device he was tinkering with.

“Ok, are we going to pretend that you weren’t in a bad mood the whole time?” Cisco said, throwing Harry an unimpressed look.

Harry’s head shot up as he glared daggers at Cisco.

“I needed her help with something.” Harry cleared his throat and looked at her for the first time since she entered the cortex. “I need your help with something.”

“Of course.” She replied, as he got up instantly and led the way to her lab. 

He shows her what he has been working on for the past few days and if she wasn’t impressed with his breadth of knowledge before, she’s certainly blown away now. Bioengineering is not his area of expertise but he has made such strides in his work that he could have easily fooled her. She settles in the chair and leans forwards, examining the screen further. He shuffles around- she’s noticed that he can’t quite stay still for too long-walking from the board to the microscope and then next to her as her mind grapples with his research.

“Where have you been?”

He says it quietly, ensuring that his voice did not carry to the cortex. She looks up at him and he’s looking down at her, his face just mildly curious. She’s almost shocked that he asked her about her whereabouts until the realization dawns on her. He hasn’t been here long enough to know that she takes her personal days more so than the rest of the team. Most of the time it is for her father’s death anniversary, or even the odd day to deal with his estate but every so often, like the past few days, to visit her mother. Everyone in S.T.A.R. Labs, before and after the particle accelerator explosion, knew not to ask her when she disappeared for a day or two. She’s almost unsure of how to answer his question.

“I went to see my mother.” She says, aware that her voice has taken a peculiar tone.

“Does she live in the city?” He asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“No.” She answers and because he continues to look at her, she adds. “Not far, though.”

“Are you close?”

She shifts a little, forcing herself to look away. His question and steady gaze have made her uncomfortable.

“No.” She answers with a sigh. “Not since my father died.”

When she looks back up at him, he’s looking back at the screen. “How did I do?”

“Quite good.” She says, glad not to be discussing her family anymore. “We can make a few changes to it tomorrow if you are up for it?”

“Always.”

She gives him a small smile, wishing desperately for the strange tension between them to disappear. She’s almost to the door when she feels his grasp on her arm. She looks down to see her arm engulfed in his large hand, and looks back up to find his blue gaze peering down at her.

He has never touched her like this.

“I’m sorry. I don’t like it when people pry either.”

She feels some of the tension leave her body. The air around them though, has become charged with something else.

“It’s alright, Harry.” She replies. “I’m not used to people asking me about my family. Everyone here knows my story. I forget, sometimes, that you don’t know these things about me.”

“I’d like to.” He says.

“What?”

“I’d like to know more about you.”

His words, spoken with a quiet voice, coupled with his piercing gaze has her faltering a little. It must be visible because he lifts his hand from her and starts to walk back to the screen.

“Since I’m sticking around here.” He shrugs, but doesn’t look at her again. If he was hoping to look nonchalant, he certainly succeeded. 

She nods and tries to give him a smile.

“See you tomorrow, Harry.”

\---

She thinks of him later that night as she stares into the roaring fire in her living room. Her apartment is extravagant, she’s well aware, considering that she barely spends as much time here as she had once thought she would. She can’t help but have a taste for the finer things, she ponders as she sips her tea. She has a book on her lap that she had every intention to read, but she can’t be bothered to look away from the fire.

Her parents used to build a fire almost every night in the winter. Her father would sit in the armchair which had supposedly been in the family for decades, and her mother would be huddled on the couch under a blanket. Both her parents would be consumed with reading something or other and would occasionally break away from their thoughts to converse. She would be sitting on the carpet, reading a book with their dog cuddled up to her. She closed her eyes now and she’s almost certain she can still feel the dog at her feet, breathing in and out rhythmically. 

She opened her eyes and the vividness of the memory made her heart ache. Nearly twenty years had gone by since that moment in front of the fire in her parents house, and she remembers every single detail like it was yesterday. She can still hear their laughter ringing in her ears. She sighed and tried desperately to ignore the twinge of longing that came with these memories.

Why in the world did he want to know these parts of her?

\---  
  


Harry sighed, leaning forward to rest his head on the board he had been scribbling on. It’s late, well beyond the normal working hours and Physics is not his friend tonight. He shuts his eyes and allows himself a minute. The cool glass of the board feels comforting against his forehead, when it really should feel foreign. But he’s been here before- both physically and mentally- seeking reprieve from the board he bleeds his work on. 

He can hear footsteps coming down the hall. They are faint but he can sense that they are measured, precise, and purposeful, much like their owner. He straightened himself up just as the footsteps got louder and suddenly stopped, signaling that she had entered his workshop.

“You’re here late.” He says, grabbing a cloth and wiping off his scribbling. They did not make sense anyway and he might as well start again. 

“I could say the same about you.”

“I live here.”

“No, I mean you’re here _working_ late.”

He turns around. She’s wearing a beige turtleneck sweater that looks extremely soft to the touch. Her hair is tumbling around her shoulders in slightly messy waves. He wonders briefly, if this is what she looks like when she’s by herself in the comfort of her own home.

“I had an idea and I thought I could figure it out.” He pointed towards the board. She moved closer until she was standing next to him, facing the board.

“I would offer some assistance but I don’t think I’m much help when it comes to quantum physics. ”

He chuckled lightly, because her statement was utterly ridiculous. “You are plenty of help, Snow.”

“Now you’re just being nice.”

“I’m not nice.” He replied, pinning her with a look. “Ask anyone here.”

She tilts her head to the side and looks at him. He’s noticed that she does that often when she is trying to figure out what the person in front of her is saying. It’s an assessing look- he might as well be a specimen under a microscope. He feels just as much when her eyes narrow ever so slightly.

“Are you alright?” She asks, her voice soft but determined. “You’ve been quiet lately.”

He’s not really surprised that she has noticed. She might be alarmingly guarded at times, but she is very emotionally astute. He doesn’t mind telling her what’s on his mind usually...except this time it’s _her_. 

How exactly is he supposed to broach the subject of Flashpoint to her? He wants to, he really does, because even though he had insisted she be kept in the dark about it, there really is no one else he would like to talk about this with. She has, inadvertently, become his confidant. She’s unbelievably kind and thoughtful, always offering comforting words, even at times when he doesn’t think he needs it. He has been on his own for so long, keeping everyone at arm's length that nobody had even dared to come close to him. He had been taken aback when she would seek him out just to see if he needed a hand or talk through a tough idea he had been working on. Her attention is a little intoxicating to him and he’d happily get drunk on it.

And then there are the thoughts that linger on his mind. He cannot seem to stop himself from picturing what their life could have been like in Flashpoint. How they would have met, perhaps even worked together. Maybe they were married and lived in a brownstone filled with books. Did they have a dog? What did their bedroom look like? He wanted to know what she looked like when she woke up in the morning. He could picture them, sitting in front of a fire, glasses of her favorite red wine clutched between their hands, while the snow poured from the sky, covering their world with glitter.

He can’t share any of this with her because he’s certain she would go running for the hills. His every waking thought might be consumed with her but he’s positive that there is not a fraction of reciprocation here.

Of course, the devil on his shoulder likes to whisper lies in his ear on days when she smiles at him a little longer than she does anyone else.

“I’m just missing Jesse.” It’s not a lie, he’s never _not_ missing his daughter. Jesse has gone away with Wally for a few days and he is less than thrilled about it.

Caitlin tilts her head to the side, considering him silently. He’s about to look away from her when she breaks the silence, “You know it goes both ways.”

He looks away now, making a work of flipping through the nearest book as if he is looking for a particular page. “What does?”

He hears her move closer to him but he continues his movements, hoping to look as nonchalant as possible. 

“I- We would like to know more about you too.” She says. He looks at her and finds her peering at him, her face molded into a kind expression.

“Allright.” He replies, suddenly at a lack for words, something that had never happened to him until he met Caitlin Snow.

“You can tell us if you are having a rough day, Harry.”

He looks away from her instantly, her words feel like a bucket of cold water has been tossed on him. She must sense his discomfort because she moves into his vicinity and he can't help but return his gaze to her. They are close enough for him to pick up details that are bound to keep him up at night- the shine in her hair, the tiniest freckle that is resting on the side of her chin and the familiar crisp scent he hadn’t even known he had come to associate with her. 

“I just mean...I noticed that you’ve been a little withdrawn and you keep leaving us when we are all in the cortex. You hardly even reacted to Cisco’s comments this morning. I know that something’s going on with you.” 

‘Snow, I…” He starts.

“You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.” She continues. “I just want you to know that you can. Don’t feel like you can’t reach out, ok?”

“It’s not always easy for some people to reach out, Snow,” He replies, swallowing. “You, of all people, know that.”

She stills under his gaze as her eyes widen a little. He wonders if he’s gone too far, pushed a button he probably had no right to push.The fear leaves his body in the next second as she breaks out into a smile and looks away into the distance. “We are quite the pair, aren’t we?”

“Indeed.” He answers, unable to pull his eyes away from her. 

“Well,” She says, looking back at him. “I should be heading home.”

“Do you…” He starts before he can even process what he wants to say to her. “Do you need me to…”

It feels silly to even suggest it. She is a grown woman who has encountered all kinds of threats before and has proved time and time again that she can take care of herself. And yet, he feels this instinctive urge to protect her. To comfort her. To know the dreams in her heart.

To share a life with her.

“No need.” She replies. “But thank you for offering.”

He thinks about her walking away, a sight he’s come to hate, as he tries desperately to fall asleep that night. If it were up to him, he would rectify that immediately. Because if there is some version of him in another universe who has this life that means he can too in this universe.

It is dangerous to ponder these thoughts when he has absolutely no idea where she stands. 

\---

He’s crankier than usual next morning and he snaps at just about everyone who gets in his way before he’s had his first cup of coffee. But somewhere between Cisco’s shrill cry when he sees Harry toss his things around and Iris’s eye roll, he gets an idea.

It may be the most ludicrous idea he’s ever had.

\---

They tell everyone that they are working on Cisco’s Vibe gear. It’s not _really_ a lie.

Joe is at CCPD, Iris is chasing down a story, and Caitlin, sick with a cold, has not set foot in S.T.A.R. Labs all day. They couldn’t ask for a more opportune moment. 

"I don’t think this will work.” Barry says again, for what is the tenth time today.

“ _Allen_.”

“I mean we’ve seen some things in our time here but this is just outlandish. I’m just saying-”

“We don’t need you just yet, Allen so a little quiet would be nice.” Harry says, through gritted teeth. 

“Harry, c’mon.” Cisco says, head bent as he works on the equipment. “You have to calm down a little.”

Harry suppresses a groan because they are both right. This is outlandish and he definitely needs to calm down. He toyed with this idea for a day and then realized that if this is going to work, he needed Cisco who was less than enthused. It took some convincing- and some expert nagging on Harry’s part- to wear Cisco down.

“Ok this guy is ready to go.” Cisco said, looking up at them. “All set?”

“I can’t believe we are going to vibe Flashpoint.” Barry muttered. Something in his voice has Harry looking at him and for the first time, he felt a smidge of remorse for what he was asking them to do.

“Listen, I appreciate this.” He said, as both Barry and Cisco exchanged looks. “This isn’t easy for either of you and I appreciate you indulging in my...curiosity.”

Barry nodded, his usual stoic expression back on his face. Cisco, however, shook his head and gave Harry a look.

“Can we just stop for a second and talk about why you are doing this?” Cisco asks.

“I told you -”

“No, I know what you said.” Cisco counters. “But I don’t think you were being honest. Are you doing this for science or for Caitlin?”

There is a pin drop silence in the room. Barry steps back a little as if he thinks Harry and Cisco might start swinging at each other but Cisco stands his ground, arms crossed at his chest. Harry can’t really blame him for asking this question but that doesn’t mean he wants to answer it. Ever since he had told Cisco about what his life had been like in Flashpoint, Cisco’s been acting strange. For one, he’s been more contemplative than talkative. He knows that underneath Cisco’s new chilly demeanor lies concern for Caitlin and Harry appreciates that immensely.

“Look,” Harry says, running a hand through his hair. “I just need to know what I’m missing.”

Cisco shakes his head at Harry. “But why does it matter to you? Are you suddenly in love with Cailtin?”

“No!” Harry exclaims. Cisco continues to shake his head, turning away and Barry’s giving him a disappointed look, something he must have learned from Joe. He forgets sometimes just how much these two men love her and he knows that he can’t move forward with this if they are not with him. He takes a breath, shallow and quick, hoping to summon up the courage he so desperately needs.

“It wasn’t sudden.”

Cisco turns arounds swifty, his eyes wide as saucers. Barry has a similar expression on his face.

“What?” Cisco gapes. 

“This did not just happen. And this is not a product of knowing that Caitlin and I were together in Flashpoint.”

“But what are you hoping to get out of this, Harry?” Barry asks. “Just because something happened in Flashpoint, doesn’t mean it’s going to happen in this timeline as well.”

“I know-” Harry begins and stops. He has no idea how to explain the magnitude of his emotions. The words are present in his mind but make no form when he opens his mouth. 

“Look, we don’t mean to back you in a corner.” Barry sighs, his eyes extremely sympathetic. “Now, I think I know how you feel about her so I can understand the desire to see your life in Flashpoint. But you have to keep in mind that you may not get a chance to have what you-the _other_ you- had in Flashpoint. There is even a possibility that…” 

“....that she may not feel the same way she did in Flashpoint.” Harry says. 

Silence envelops the three men as they let the words settle over them. 

“Ok,” Cisco says, clapping Harry on the shoulder. “Are we doing this or what?’

Barry gives him an encouraging nod and Harry smiles at both men. “Let's do it.”

\---

They decide not to talk about what they saw in Flashpoint. Not with anyone else, not each other.

He remembered the pact they had made when they returned from Earth-2 last year and he sincerely hopes that everyone can keep their travels in time and space to themselves this time around.

The burden of knowledge is certainly a curse.

\---

Caitlin is nowhere to be found the next day. He figured she might be running late but it never occurred to him that she would take two days off in a row. It seemed very unlike her and yet, her lab is cloaked in darkness, her cup shows no sign of use and there isn’t even the faintest hint of her perfume in the hallway. 

What’s even more strange is that nobody seems to acknowledge her absence.

S.T.A.R Labs seems to be functioning as per usual. Cisco is up to his usual antics, Joe makes an appearance, and Barry and Iris can’t seem to take their eyes off of each other. He makes it to eleven in the morning when his resolve crumbles, snapping under the weight of the suspense, and he asks Cisco. “Where is she?”

“What do you mean?” Cisco doesn’t so much as glance at him. He’s noticed that Cisco hasn’t been able to look him in the eye since yesterday, no doubt due to what he saw in Flashpoint. Harry doesn’t blame him, he is barely keeping himself together.

“Snow. Where is she? Is she still sick?”

Cisco frowns a little but continues to type on his computer. “Who told you she’s sick?”

“Iris did, I think. She said Snow texted her.”

“Well, I guess that’s Cailtin code for ‘I’m not coming in to work today.’”

“So she’s pretending to be sick?”

“Yeah.” Cisco looks at him as if he’s lost his mind. And then a split second later, realization dawns on Cisco’s face and he says, voice hushed. “Oh. Do you not know what today is?”

“No.”

“It’s the day Ronnie proposed to her.”

“Oh.” Harry finds himself saying. “Oh, I see.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t be surprised if she took another day off. Sometimes she needs the extra time away to...just be.” Cisco continues.

“And everyone at S.T.A.R Labs knows what today is?”

“It’s common knowledge, I think.” Cisco answers, leaning back in his chair. “We give her space when she disappears like that.”

“Even you?” He asked, bothered with the image of her alone and grieving.

“She’s like that, Harry.” Cisco shrugged. “She is unbelievably strong but she has these moments when she curls up into herself and stays in there until…”

“Until?” Harry urged him, eyebrows raised.

“Until it doesn’t hurt anymore, I suppose.” 

Harry nods, unsure if he has anything to contribute to this conversation. Cisco looks at him for a minute and says, “She does this around her father's death anniversary too. And sometimes during the holidays. You should probably know that since you’re in love with her.”

Harry inhales sharply, as if Cisco’s words had punched the air out of his lungs. It’s the first time he is hearing these words said out loud and he’s not even the one to say them. Cisco picks up on this because he raises his eyebrows at Harry, a teasing smile tugging at his lips and says, “What? Am I not allowed to say that?”

“This doesn’t bother you?” Harry asks. If he is concerned about one person knowing the truth-other than Caitlin- it’s Cisco, who with all Harry’s pretense of resignation, is the closest thing he has to a friend in the multiverse. Albeit an annoying, loud mouthed and occasionally uncouth friend, but a friend, nonetheless.

“Honestly?” Cisco asks and waits until Harry nods, signaling him to continue. “It does. Caitlin is….everything that is wonderful and beautiful in this world. I don’t think I’ve ever loved a person I wasn’t related to, the way I love her. She deserves the world and beyond.”

Cisco looks away from him, leaning back in his chair further to contemplate.

“She’s had people hurt her in ways most people could never even imagine.” Cisco continues, “I don’t doubt your feelings toward her but I don’t like that you haven't’ told her about Flashpoint. I worry that she will find out about this and be hurt all over again.”

“I’m going to tell her, Cisco. I just….” Harry sighs. “I just need to find out how she feels. Because if she doesn't feel the same way as I do, which is a very real possibility, I don’t care to inflict this on her.”

“I suppose that’s noble.” Cisco says, “But I don’t think you need to worry about her not feeling the same way.”

Harry feels his breath catch in his throat. “What do you mean?”

“Harry, c’mon.”

Harry shakes his head because this is the first time he’s even thought of Caitlin having any sort of feelings towards him.

“She’s always looking out for you. She checks in with you. She asks your opinion, _always!_ ” Cisco exclaims.

“She’s just a nice person! That doesn’t mean anything.” Harry retorts.

“Ok.” Cisco answers, sitting up straight. “How about this? You are the first person she looks for when she enters a room.”

“That still doesn’t mean anything.”

“Yeah, who is the first person you look for when Jesse’s not around?”

Harry knows what the answer is but he still sighs and says,“That doesn’t mean that she feels the same way.”

“Or” Cisco offers, “Perhaps she just doesn’t _know_ that she feels that way about you.”

\---

When she doesn’t show up the next day, he asks Cisco to text her address to him.

Cisco nods as he reaches for his phone, just the slightest look of smugness on his face.

\---

The building is tall and much more elegant looking than he had imagined. He is about to ring the buzzer when a middle-aged man in a gray suit lets him in. He opts for the stairs, hoping to buy himself some time. 

He has no idea what he is actually going to say to her. He’s concerned about her, to say the least. Cisco warned him that she might shut the door in his face and he absolutely cannot imagine Caitlin doing something like that. She’s more likely to not answer, he knows, and that concerns him even more. He would take a door slam over silence just so he can make sure she is alright. He reaches her door and takes a deep breath in before raising his fist to knock. He hears the faint sounds of music and some shuffling before the door is yanked open and she is standing in front of him. 

She’s bundled in a massive grey cardigan over an ensemble of black loungewear, her hair tied up in a lopsided ponytail. He’s taken aback by how young she looks, without her usual armour of impeccable clothing. Her eyes widen as she takes him in.

“I thought you were my take out.” She exclaims and he spies a wallet in her hand.

“I’m sorry to disappoint.” He finds himself saying, despite the fact that he feels utterly entranced by her undone appearance.

“Is something wrong? Is anyone hurt?” She says, panic evident in her voice. 

“No.”

She looks at him for a minute, head tilted, and lips slightly pursed.

“Would you like to come in?” She says, not waiting for his answer as she steps aside. He steps forward, not needing to be told twice, and walks into her house.

The scale and the drama of the room is striking. The furniture is dark, a throw hanging casually off the end of the couch. There are paintings hanging on the wall in ornate frames and multiple vintage looking decorations catch his eye. There is a soft, warm glow in the room, no doubt due to the fire, crackling in the background. The fireplace is surrounded by walls of bookshelves on either side and his heart sings a little as he scans her impressive book collection. He spies a record player in the corner, a vinyl spinning as he hears the smooth, crooning of a jazz singer.

There is a delectable feel to her house from the objects, to the light, and even the heady scent of pine and a flower he can’t quite place. He had never pictured that she would inhabit a space like this but now as he watches her move about the room, in all it’s exquisite glory, it fits. The room seems to enhance her elegance.

“Your home is beautiful.” He says. He cannot remember the last time he used that word to describe a house.

“Thank you.” She answers, a quiet smile on her face. She gestures for him to sit down, and sits adjacent to him when he does. He notices how she sinks into the armchair, her bare feet curling underneath her body in a strangely feline manner. “What are you doing here?”

He’s not exactly sure how to broach the subject so he settles for the easiest explanation .“You haven’t come in for a few days.”

She looks at him for a second, holding his gaze as she nods and says “Who told you?”

“Cisco.”

She nods again and he is amazed at the way she goes from warm to detached in a matter of seconds. 

“I just wanted to check on you.”

“I’m fine.” Her gaze is determined, bordering on steely. 

“Are you really?”

She sighs and turns her head towards the fire. He watches the firelight dance across her face.

“I forgot.” She says. “I forgot when I woke up that morning. I made coffee, I ate breakfast. I was almost dressed when I saw the ring in my jewelry box. And then it hit me like a ton of bricks.” 

She looks back at him, with a sad smile and continues. “It's happening, isn't it? I’m starting to forget him. He is slowly disappearing from my life. I...I wake up in the middle of night sometimes thinking that I’m going to forget what his voice sounds like. I bet I won’t even remember the day or how it happened, in a few years.”

“You’ll remember.” He says, his voice soft. She tilts her head as she considers him.

“Well, not everything.” He continues, pushing away the memories that flood his head. “But you’ll remember the big things. And if you do forget, something will remind you. The day will feel...off. You’ll walk around with this strange feeling in your body and then suddenly, you’ll know.”

She’s giving him a knowing, sympathetic look.

“It’s strange that you and I have never talked about this before considering that we both have dead spouses in common.” She says, wistfully. 

The callousness of her words cut through him like a knife. He looks away from her and towards the towering bookcases to gather himself. She is right. Perhaps they were subconsciously avoiding the very topic that seems to bind them in this universe.

“What was he like?” He asks her, looking back at her. She’s undone her hair while he gazed at her books and its tumbling over her shoulders, soft and slightly messy.

“He was the life of the party. Yes, I know.” She laughs at his raised eyebrow. “He told me once that I was the most introverted girl he had ever dated. He had this astounding ability to just charm everyone. He was exceptionally friendly and caring. He’d learn little insignificant things about people just to get to know them better. He was always such a gentleman. My father would have approved of him.” Her voice softens as she mentions her father.

“What about her?” She asks. “What was she like?”

He inhales sharply because he cannot remember the last time he talked about Tess. He doesn’t really want to because he’s never sure if he will end up sobbing or hurling an object into the nearest wall. But she’s opening up to him in ways he had never thought possible and he cannot be a coward now.

“She was….” he sighs. “She was an extraordinary person. She was kind and patient. And friendly! God, she would stop in the street just to talk to people and I couldn’t bear it. I was always in a rush to get to places. She had a wonderful sense of balance and she made sure I didn’t die in my lab, constantly working.”

They share a chuckle, and he quietens for a minute.

“I’m glad Jesse’s got that from her.” He continues. “She has got a lot of me in her too but the good parts of her….that’s all Tess.”

“I disagree.” Her voice slices through the air, rousing him from his world of memories. “She’s got your spirit and your determination. Your _unparalleled_ sass.” A smirk tugs at her lips. “All good things.”

“Thank you, Snow.”

“Isn’t it strange that you and I, who are the most guarded people by all accounts, found the most uncomplicated, warmest people to love?” She says.

He ponders her words for a second, unable to hide the fact that her words were inching closer to his insecurities.

“I’ve always felt that I was not an easy person to love.” He all but whispers into the space between them.

She softens, blinking away tears that threaten to fall from her eyes. “I’ve always felt the same way.”

The gaze at each other in companionable silence, and he’s reminded of the images from Flashpoint that are forever seared into his memory. He feels the words bubbling up in his throat and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He’s about to broach the subject of Flashpoint when the doorbell rings, jarring them both out of the moment.

“Sorry, it’s just my food.” She jumps up from the armchair and races to answer the door. He watches her exchange pleasantries with the delivery person as she pays the bill and grasps the bags of food. She closes the door with the back of her foot as she turns back towards. 

“I should go, I’m sure you’d like to eat your dinner.” He gets up, tugging his jacket on closer.

“Would you like to join me? I ordered a lot.” She looks down at the two bags she’s holding, both equally massive.

“You did.”

“Hey!”

“No, I mean.” Harry winced. “It’s good. You will have leftovers.”

“Well, what do you say?” She gestured towards the open door which he assumes leads to the kitchen.

“I’d better go. I’ve imposed on your evening enough.”

“You are not imposing.”

“Really, Snow-”

“It’s going to get cold!” She said, turning on her heel. “This way.”

\----

“I want to ask you something, at the risk of sounding rude.” He says, watching her as she uses her chopsticks with an expert hand and raises an eyebrow at him.

“I’m intrigued.”

They are sitting on the bar stools, at her kitchen island, bodies titled towards each other as they eat their meals. Her kitchen and dining area are not as dark and lush as the living room but they still contain similar elements. There are several cookbooks standing next to her coffee machine and he’s noticed a row of herbs on the counter above the sink. The wine glasses that hold their white wine somehow look both contemporary and classic in style. Everything about her house so far and the things he’s noticed about her over the year, begs the question he wants to ask her.

“Your house…” He gestures to the surroundings with his hand. She nods knowingly and he feels encouraged. “Are you wealthy?”

“Yes.” She answers unabashedly, as she leans back and sips from her glass. Her sweater slips off her shoulder a little and he’s momentarily distracted by the lace covered skin he’s just glimpsed. “You were a lot more tactful than Cisco. His first words as he waltzed through the door were ‘Yo, are you rich? This place is so sick!’”

“Of course. I would expect nothing less from him.” 

“But yes, I am wealthy. It’s all inherited, though. Old money.” She explained. 

“Your parents?”

She shook her head. “Grandparents, actually. Particularly on the Tannhouser side of the family. The Snow side is more nouveau riche.”

“Hmm.” Harry nodded and he took another bite. 

She tilted her head a little. “What?”

“It makes sense.” He said, gesturing to her. “You have this thing about you.”

“What thing?” She asked, her voice slightly shrill.

“Just this air of….elegance and refinery.” Her cheeks redden a little under his gaze and he feels, not for the first time this evening, that they have travelled into a whole new dimension in their relationship.

“What about you?’

“I’m a self made man.”

“Yes, I’m sure you are.” She chuckles and nods toward his plate. “You are also full of surprises, I must say. I didn’t think you’d care for Thai food.”

“Why?” He’s mildly offended that she’s making assumptions about him.

“Well, you always stick to Big Belly Burger so I figured you didn’t have an adventurous palate.” She answered, mirth dancing through her eyes. 

He barks out a laugh and wonders if he should tell her about the time he went backpacking during his first graduate degree and survived on some very questionable meals. But she gets up in that instance, padding over to the fridge and asks, “How about some dessert?”

\----

“..... and so I did.”

“You’re kidding!” Her eyes widened. 

“I’m really not.”

“You ate it even though you had no idea what it was? I’m impressed.” She exclaims. “I couldn’t have done it.”

“What is it about being young that makes you fearless?” He asked, grabbing the bottle of wine and topping off their glasses.

“The prefrontal cortex isn’t fully developed yet so we mistake foolishness for bravery.” She answers, taking a sip.

“Oh, ok. You mean to tell me you never did something silly when you were young, Snow? Well, younger than you are.” He corrects.

She looks away from him as a smile tugs at her mouth. “Maybe.” 

He can’t help but smirk at the teasing lilt of her voice. “C’mon, Snow. I showed you mine.”

His phone buzzes as soon as the words are out of his mouth, and he reaches for it immediately.

“It’s Jessie. They’re back and she’s wondering where I am.” He taps out an ‘on my way’ reply to her.

“I think I’ll head out.” He continues, glancing at the clock and realizing he has most definitely overstayed his welcome. 

“Of course.” She nods as they both get up together and walk towards the entrance. He puts on his jacket and watches her from the corner of his eye as she tugs her sweater closer around her. 

“Well, thank you for dinner.” He turns towards her now and takes her in. Her face is slightly flushed most likely due to wine and the fire that is casting a warm glow over her. 

“Thank you for stopping by.” She says, “You made my evening a little less lonely.”

“Anytime, Snow.”

She smiles and he’s almost tempted to stay a little longer. But instead he sighs and moves towards the door.

“So will we see you tomorrow?” He asks. 

“You will.” She replies and the anxiety that had been coiling in the pit of his stomach eases at her words.

He can hear Billie Holiday crooning from the record player, as he closes the door behind him.

\----

She wakes up with a smile on her face.

She hums as she goes about her morning- making her bed, watering the plants, dabbing perfume on the back of her neck. She walks into the kitchen and her hand lingers on the island a little and she wonders why she feels drawn to a piece of granite.

She shakes her when she remembers that he had been sitting at that spot the night before.

Harry is a surprise in every way. She can remember the times when she couldn’t bear to look at him without thinking of Barry's mother or Ronnie’s death. Of course, Harry’s proved himself to be a completely different person that she has initially thought him to be but she’s still surprised at the events of last night. The ease with the way they shared their conversation, hopping from one topic to another. He had looked completely at home in her apartment as he had moved around the kitchen, spooning leftover pie and ice-cream into dishes, as if he had done this countless times before. He wasn’t the only one who had relaxed, she too had swept propriety under the rug as she had reached out languidly and picked from his plate. It was as if the barriers of their working relationship had suddenly disappeared when he turned up on her doorstep and turned into something entirely different.

The kind of different that has surpassed definition.

She muddles over these thoughts as she pushes Jitters door open and makes her way to the counter. She orders her usual and turns around to survey the coffee shop while her coffee is brewed. It’s the usual 7 am crowd- early birds, men and women in business attire, sleep deprived parents wrangling their noisy children during the morning school run. She glances at the corner behind the ostentatious ferns because she has an inkling. She’s right, she realizes as her heart skips a beat- there he is huddled in his jacket and baseball cap as he nurses a cup of coffee. She grabs her beverage and walks over to him. His head is bent over a book, his brow furrowed as he reads. 

“May I join you?”

His head shoots up at her words, his frown disappearing.

“Of course.” He says, his eyes roving over her as she sits down. “I take it you are heading in to work?”

“I am. I've done enough moping around, don’t you think?”

“You are allowed to mope all you want.”

“It’s time. And Cisco texted me saying he’s missed me.” She adds, taking a sip of her coffee.

“Oh, he does. He’s almost finished with your box of pizza pockets.” He smirks, raising an eyebrow at her. “That’s quite a juvenile meal, I must say.”

“Says the man who eats Big Belly Burger like no one’s business!”

“Big Belly Burger is nutritious.”

“Hardly.” She scoffs. “Though I think I have to give you more credit for being adventurous after hearing your stories last night. 

“Speaking of,” He says, leaning forward. “You still owe me a story.”

There it is.

The levity, the closeness, the longing on his face- all of which she was convinced that she had partly made up in her mind.

She smiles, glancing at her watch and determines that she has enough time for an abridged version.

\---

“It really does make a difference than if you were to test it right away. ” She says, as they walk through the hallway and into the cortex.

“I read an article the other day that might convince you. I will send it to you.” She continues, and glances around the room. Cisco is sitting behind the computer and Barry stands upright, leaning over his shoulder. “Hey, guys.”

“Hey.” They say in unison, without looking away from the screen. She smiles to herself and is incredibly grateful that they do not address her absence.

“Well, I’m heading to the workshop.” Harry turns on his heel and begins to walk out of the room as Barry looks away from the screen.

“Harry, I need to go over something with you!”

“I won’t wait forever.” Harry says, turning his head slightly. His steps never falter as Barry catches up to him.

Cisco finally looks at her now that they are alone. She walks over to him, resting her weight on the desk as he leans back in his chair.

“How was the hibernation?”

“Not bad.”

“Yeah? What d’you do?” Cisco raises his arms, stretching them behind his head. 

“Ate a lot. Watched movies and read a couple books.”

“Anything good?”

“Nothing you would like.” She replies with a teasing smile as he playfully jabs his knee into her thigh.

“Did you have any visitors?”

She tilts her head to the side as she considers his question. His very _pointed_ question. 

“You know it was me who gave Harry your address, right?”

Of course he did. It’s not like Harry would know her address since he had never been to her home before last night.

“Caitlin.” Cisco looks worried, no doubt mistaking her silence for anger. “Should I not have given him your address?”

“Oh no, Cisco. That’s ok.” She exclaims. “I mean, it’s Harry, right?”

“It’s Harry.” He agrees, with a shrug of his shoulder. “So are you going to dish?”

“There is nothing to dish.” She replies, partly because she doesn’t want her evening with Harry to be dissected. It’s private and she wants to be the only one privy to it. “He wanted to check on me. I invited him to eat dinner with me and we swapped stories.”

“He ate dinner at your house?” Cisco leans forward, his eyes as wide as saucers. 

“Yes, I had ordered take out when he showed up.” She’s a little taken aback by his question. He is quiet for a few seconds as he looks at her and she can feel anticipation building in her body.

“What is going on with you and Harry?”

“What do you mean?” Her voice is high and anxiety coils in her stomach. She is not mentally prepared to have this conversation.

“You’re having dinner together, you’re doing a coffee run together.” He says, gesturing to the to go coffee cup she’s holding. “You’re always together working on something. He’s exceptionally nice to you. And don’t think I haven’t noticed him bringing you coffee sometimes.”

“Well, we are coworkers, Cisco.” She retorts. “We are allowed to bring each other coffee or talk about things.”

Cisco’s expression tells her that she has failed to convince him. He shakes his head at her and says, “He asked me for your address, Caitlin. And the day before, he asked me what was going on with you. That’s all I’m saying.”

She bites her lip as moments from the previous night flash before her eyes. Harry’s attentive gaze as he listened to her. The way he had glanced at her extravagant home and brought it up in the most gentle way. The stories he had shared with her- she’s certain he has not even shared some of them with Jesse. The close proximity in which they had sat, every boundary that had stood between them now crumbled to fine dust.

“I don’t know.” She almost whispers as she looks back at Cisco. “I don’t know what’s going on between us.”

Cisco gives her a sad smile, as he stands up. He rubs her shoulder in his Cisco like way- a little too rough to be comforting and she returns his smile, just as sad and a little more uneasy.

\---

But the thing is she _does_ know.

It takes her a few days to figure it out and honestly, she considers that progress. It took her months before she realized that Ronnie was interested in her and even longer for her to realize that she too was interested in Ronnie. She’s known Harry for a year but it’s really the last few weeks that have made her see it.

He watches her. When she enters a room, his eyes land on her almost instantly. He always ends up sitting or standing in her vicinity. He works in her lab often and even requests her presence in his workshop sometimes. She’s never thought much of this but now….everything seems clear. 

The coffee ritual still continues. But now they seem to be venturing out to Jitters together as well. Sometimes they sit down for a few minutes (or thirty) discussing something or the other. There is never a shortage of things for them to talk about. But they also have silences where they just bask in the glow of each other’s company.

She’s flattered to say the least because he is also _looking_ at her, his eyes lingering ever so longingly. He tries to be stealthy about it and she appreciates his chivalry. But desire is not the only thing she is seeing in his eyes. It’s something else that has been building like a slow fire and each moment of connection is kindling that has turned it into a full fledged flame. 

It terrifies her to no end.

\---

It’s raining and they have found themselves in line for coffee at Jitters, yet again. They are trying desperately to survive the afternoon slump and they haven’t had a minute just by themselves all day. 

Jitters is crowded. Everyone wants shelter and coffee during a thunderstorm.

A young girl in a ballet costume and exaggerated makeup bustles past them with an iced coffee in hand and he watches Caitlin’s gaze follow her.

“I remember those days.” She comments. She’s wearing a black coat, a red sweater that matches her lips, peeking through. She has a look of fond wistfulness on her face as she continues to watch the young girl.

“You took ballet?” He’s a little surprised. He had pegged her more as an appreciator of the arts, not a participant. 

“For many years.” She looks back at him. “My mother wanted me to focus more on science related extracurriculars, so I stopped at fourteen. I still go watch the ballet though.”

He wants to make a less than graceful comment about her mother but thankfully it’s their turn to order.

“How is your mother?” He asks her as they collect their coffees from the counter. She stiffens a little, squaring her shoulder and keeps her eyes focused on pouring cream into her cup.

“The same.”

And just like that she goes back to being unknowable. Sometimes he wonders if she dangles parts of her life in front of him on purpose, only to be reticent in the next instance.

No, he thinks as she smiles at him when he opens the door for her, she is much too generous to toy with him.

If only she was generous enough to trust him with certain parts of her life.

\---

Still, she shares things about herself without even knowing and he latches on to them like a man dying of thirst.

She can play the piano. 

She re-reads Jane Eyre every winter.

She takes a long walk on Saturday mornings. 

She wears the same perfume as her mother.

She is terrified of spiders.

He’s in love with her and at the point of no return.

\---

“Tell her.”

“ _Ramon_.”

“You’re dragging your feet.” Cisco types furiously, his gaze never wavering from his screen.

“Thanks for the input I did not ask for.” He grunts out, the irritability seeping into his being.

“What are you so afraid of?”

If only, he thinks, if only I could articulate the insecurities of a lifetime in a sentence.

“It’s self preservation, I suppose.” He answers. Cisco chuckles lightly and looks at him.

“What are you self preserving for? I’ve watched it happen, ok? There is no need for you to be afraid or to hide it anymore. She’s right there with you. But you have to tell her about Flashpoint.”

He looks at Cisco and wonders how he ever made decisions before he knew this exceptional group of twenty-something year olds.

“I’ll tell her. I just need a little more time.”

\--- 

He doesn’t tell her.

He tells himself that he needs to prepare for this conversation but the truth is he wants to hold on tightly to the memories of Flashpoint, without having to share them.

It’s entirely possible that he tells her about it and she tells him in her sweet, gentle way that she does not feel the same way and that he’s made a fanciful assumption about her.

Or she tells him that she feels it too. A connection, much like an age old love story.

He’s aware that he is being selfish but he wants to revel in it for a little while longer.

\---

But fate has other plans for him.

They are in the cortex, a rare moment when it’s just the two of them. Everyone has ventured out with promises of bringing back food. He’s working on a deadline and he needs her expertise. She has worked tirelessly over the past few days and her invaluable talent and energy is helping him ever so much. 

With a final few tapes of her keyboard, she settles back in her chair and says, “All done.”

He shakes his head at her and continues typing, “My goodness, Snow. You think I’d figure this out faster than you given my multiple Phds in this field.”

It’s harmless teasing. They both know her exceptional intelligence allows her to grasp pretty much anything in a matter of minutes.

“Here, have a look while I get a refill. Do you want one?”

“I’m alright.” He swivels his chair closer to her as she gets up from hers. Their legs entangle slightly in what should have been an awkward encounter, and he can’t help but freeze as he looks up at her. She smiles as she reaches down, holding on to his shoulder to steady herself as she moves her legs from between his. Her hair brushes his cheek and he nearly jumps out of his skin as he inhales the smell of her. Her hand lingers on his shoulder even though she’s straightened herself. She opens her mouth and then snaps it shut as her eyes rove over his face and her cheeks colour. Say it, he thinks to himself, tell me what you were going to say before you stopped yourself. She opens her mouth again and he feels his heart lift at the sight.

“- you think making us wait forever would be enough, but no. They have to get my order wrong.” Cisco's voice rings into the cortex accompanied by the stomping of his feet. He’s carrying a take out bag and Barry and Iris follow him in, hands clasped. Cisco dumps his take out back on the table across from them as he looks at them- Harry sitting, Caitlin hovering closer than normal. Cisco rolls his eyes as he smiles lightly and says, “Oh god. And it begins.”

A chill runs through Harry as he hears Cisco’s words. The panic renders him almost paralized, he can’t make himself move or speak. 

“What are you talking about, Cisco?” Caitlin asks, removing her hand from his shoulder but staying otherwise in place. 

“Listen, I put up with you and Ronnie. I can put up with this.” Cisco says, gesturing at them. “Although, a request, if I may. Let’s just say no to workplace PDA, ok? For everyone’s sanity.”

“Cisco!” Caitlin laughs, looking between Harry and Cisco. “What in the world are you talking about?”

Harry makes eye contact with Barry over Cisco’s shoulder and as best as he can muster, shakes his head. Barry's eyes widen as he shakes his head as well.

“Oh, come on. He's obviously told you about Flashpoint and that you both were together…..” Cisco stops when Barry moves forward and clasps a hand on his shoulder. “What are you…”

He sees the look on Barry’s face and rounds on Harry. “You didn’t tell her.”

Harry inhales sharply as if Cisco’s accusation sliced through his bare flesh. There’s complete silence as all eyes in the room are on him. He can’t will himself to look at her but feels her turn towards him.

“Harry?” 

Her voice is soft and quivering, and he musters up the courage to stand up and look at her. Her eyes are wide, but there is a hint of caution and he knows that he has begun to lose her already.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you.” It sounds pathetic and juvenile as soon as it comes out of his mouth.

“It's true?”

“Yes.”

“We- you and I- were together in Flashpoint?”

“Yes.”

“And you’ve known about this?” She doesn’t wait for an answer. “For how long?”

“A few months. Ever since we have all known about Flashpoint.”

“Does everyone know?” She addresses the room.

“This is the first I’m hearing of it.” Iris says. Barry and Cisco look at Cailtin and nod.

She takes a few steps back from him and paces. Back and forth, as she runs a hand through her hair. The silence continues as everyone watches her and he walks forward, “Snow, I-”

“Define together.” She whips around, her hair flipping over her shoulder.

“What?”

“What sort of relationship did we have? Were we in love? Were we married, what was the extent of our “togetherness”?” Her eyes are shooting fire and he’s suddenly more terrified that he has been in a long time. He swallows and thinks of the right words.

“When we saw Flashpoint -” Her eyes widened at his words.

“Wait, you _saw_ Flashpoint?” Her voice raised a few decibels. “How is that even possible?”

He waits for her to figure it out, not trusting the words from his mouth to not do any more damage. Realization sinks into her a few seconds later and she shoots a look at Barry and Cisco, “You both went with him, didn’t you? You vibed through time.. _timelines_?”

“Barry!” Iris nudges Barry’s arm. “How could you do that and not tell me?”

“Iris, I had to. It was my fault that Harry found out in the first place….” Barry runs a hand over his face as Iris storms out. He follows her, turning around slightly. “Cait, I..I’m sorry.”

And with that he speeds off, leaving a trail of lighting in his wake. Cisco looks between Harry and Caitlin and turns on his heel as well, muttering “I just gotta…”

The silence envelops them as she tries her best not to look him in the eye.

“Snow, listen to me. I meant to tell you everything ages ago. I just wanted to see what things would be like so I decided to stay and…” A sharp look from her silences him.

“So that’s why you decided to stay?”

He nods, taking the opportunity to step closer to her.

“But why? Why would knowing what your life looked like in Flashpoint make you stay?”

He looks at the bewildered look on her face and says, “I think you know why.”

She stills.

“I had to see if there was anything here. I couldn’t leave without knowing if…”

“This whole time...you were testing the waters?”

He winces at her words, mild though they are but they still manage to taint his intentions.

“And I thought,” She continues, “I thought you were being a friend, offering me comfort and companionship. I thought it was genuine.”

“Of course, it was!” He exclaims. Panic surges through his body as her words seep in. “I’ve felt this way for a very long time. Knowing about Flashpoint did not make my affection for you happen, it only affirmed it further.”

But she shakes her head, turns on her heel and begins to walk away. He lunges forward, grasping her wrist and she turns around without much encouragement.

“Snow, you have to know. I meant no harm-”

“No, Harry!” She exclaims and the hurt in her eyes makes him falter. “ How could you…."

She trails off as they look at each other. She reaches down and removes his hand from around her wrist.

“How could you know what you know and watch me fall in love with you?”  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 is finally here! 
> 
> Thanks ever so much for keeping me sane while I wrote this, J.

  
  


She has always prided herself on being reasonable and well-balanced. She has never been fond of overt emotions but is also not a callous person. She likes to take the middle ground of caution, restraint, and empathy. She has never thrown objects in anger, or yelled at anyone to get her point across. These behaviours, in her opinion, are dramatic, counterproductive and usually indicative of deep seated issues.

She has never been one to storm out of an argument, in fact she detests it on principle. Her parents were well versed in loud arguments and walking away from each other, the very memory of those events were enough to make her shudder. Early on in their relationship, she and Ronnie had agreed that they would never storm out of a disagreement. There were days when they would argue and bring the tension to work with them. Cisco would take one look at them and walk away, Dr. Wells would tell them to get out of his lab and not come back until they had sorted everything out. She and Ronnie would never step out, but continue working without looking at each other in the eyes until it was time to go home. They would forgive each other eventually, neither of them had any intention of holding a grudge and never had a reason to walk away. 

She’s not quite sure what made her do it this afternoon. Every inch of her wanted to ask Harry to explain. And yet, when he moved closer to her, yearning in his eyes and apologies on his lips, she couldn’t help but run out of the cortex. She had gone to the washroom, with every intention of returning back to the cortex after pulling herself together but before she knew it, she was headed home, telling herself that her heart was not breaking.

\---

There is a knock on the door, just as she settles in her living room with a box of cookies in hand. The wind whistled through the air as storm clouds gathered in the sky, threatening to unleash their wrath on the city. If she hadn’t already been wide awake, she would have certainly woken up at the sound of trees tapping on her window. But since sleep was the farthest thing on her mind, she wandered into the kitchen at 10:30 pm, hoping that a sweet treat would be comforting. Her mind goes straight to the last time she had an unexpected house guest and her heart, the traitor that it is, flutters with hope. Dread follows shortly as she walks the distance to the front door and with a quick inhale to brace herself, she pulls the door open.

“What are you doing here?” She gasps, eye wide at her guest.

“Can I come in?” Barry asks. He clasps his hands together, as he often does when he is nervous. She wants to tell him that he cannot enter her home and that he really should give her time, but she moves aside and watches the relief on his face as he walks in.

She closes the door and turns around to face him. His hair is windswept hair and his nervous eyes tell her that he must have had to work up the courage to use his speed to get to her. He swallows as he looks around the room and then back at her. Something changes the instant they lock eyes again and they both move towards each other with equal force, meeting in a gentle embrace.

“I am so sorry, Caitlin.” He says, rubbing her back gently. “I didn’t want to keep this secret from you but Harry asked me too. And I know that doesn’t mean I’m blameless. I should have still come and talked to you. Believe me, I’ve never meant to hurt you.”

Because she knows what he sounds like when he is sincere, she sighs and nods against his chest. “I know.”

They disentangle and she leads him toward the couch.

“You left very quickly today.” Barry says, as they sit down next to each other. “It seems silly to even say it but are you alright?”

“I’m still processing.” She answers, shaking her head. “And I didn’t...I couldn’t be around him.”

“I understand, but you will have to talk about this with him at some point.”

“Will I?” She challenges, feeling the irritation bubbling in the back of her throat.

“His actions were wrong, but he had good intentions.” He replies.

“What does that even mean?” She huffs, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “His intentions do not matter when his _actions_ caused pain.”

Barry is silent as he watches her. 

“Besides,” She continues. “This isn’t you and Iris we are talking about. The two of you have been entwined for a long time. Harry and I had just barely scratched the surface of…” Whatever this is, she quietens and thinks to herself. 

“I can show you.” Barry breaks the silence, looking up at her with sympathetic eyes. “It’s only fair.”

She doesn’t need him to elaborate, she knows what he is talking about. And yet hearing those words, offered to her like a dessert on a silver platter, unsettles her even more. She sighs in resignation, “That’s not the point, Barry.”

“Then what is? What is upsetting you so much?” Barry’s gaze is knowing, his jaw set and she can’t help but stand up. She shakes her head as she paces the room, hands gliding over the bookcase until they come to rest on the record player. She remembers Harry commenting on her choice of music, the night he had dinner with her. They had bonded over Nat King Cole (a legend on Earth-2 as well) and she had all but raced to the record player, changing the vinyl to Billie Holiday, hoping to share more of her musical interests with him. That night felt so far away now, etched in mind like a long lost memory. 

“I’m not upset that you told him.” She says, fingers running over the edge of the photograph placed next to the record player. “I’m not even upset that you guys vibed Flashpoint. It’s natural to be curious.”

“I’m upset that he kept this from me.” She continues. “I’m upset because he made these decisions without consulting me. It was about _both_ our lives in Flashpoint, and he somehow decided to be secretive about it. It’s so like him to not trust me with this.”

“I don’t think that’s true. He does trust you.”

“No, it’s his obsessive need to deal with difficult situations by himself. God, it’s like last year again, keeping secrets about Zoom and Jesse.” She looks back at Barry, who much to her surprise, has a quiet smile on his face.

“Barry.” She tilts her head, thoroughly unimpressed with him. “Why in the world are you smiling?”

“You sound like Iris.” Barry says, leaning back and crossing his legs.

“That’s not true. Why would you say that?” She asks.

“No, I mean you sound like a girlfriend.” He states. “A pissed off one, but a girlfriend nonetheless.”

She scoffs, arms crossed over her chest.

“I’m serious.” Barry continues. “It’s the irritation and frustration in your voice. Also, because you are most upset about the fact that that he didn’t share this with you.”

“Well, that’s not exactly what I meant.” She says, not enjoying the way he’s backed her into a corner. 

“That’s what it sounded like to me.” Barry says, clasping his hands together. “Cait, you care about him. Maybe more than you think you do or ever expected to. And he feels the same way about you.”

She remembers the look of utter shock on Harry’s face this afternoon when she had told him that she loved him. He looked frozen in time as his eyes roved over her face. But she also remembers his silence in that moment. The silence that has been casting doubts in her mind since that afternoon, clouding every good memory with sorrow.

“He has a strange way of showing it.” She murmurs as she walks back to the couch and flops down next to Barry. “Is that what you are here for? Playing cupid?”

Barry laughs, shaking his head at her fondly. “I just wanted to check on you.”

She smiles at him, grateful that their relationship hasn’t changed through the years. They have had their arguments but she knows at the end of the day, he would do anything for her. It’s a level of trust that only comes about after experiencing much heartache and adversity together.

“I appreciate it, Barry.”

“I’m always here for you if you need to talk or anything.”

“I know.” She nods.

“Or you know.” Barry smirks. “If you ever want to do some karaoke.”

“Oh my word,” She laughs. “Don’t remind me. That was some night.”

“Indeed, it was.” Barry remarks, leaning back as he watches her. “I don’t think I have seen you inhale alcohol like that.”

“I wasn’t that drunk!”

“ _Caitlin.”_ Barry raises an eyebrow at her. “I had to bring you home and help you get into bed!”

She remembered that night in little flashes- the dimly lit bar, the ache in her feet, the terrible music, the cool wind that blew through the night. What she remembered clearly was Barry sitting on her bed when she, in an uncharacteristically vulnerable moment, asked him to stay with her until she fell asleep. She vividly remembered the weight and the rhythmic stroking of his hand on her duvet clad back, lulling her gently to sleep. She feels grateful once again for their bond and can tell by the look on his face, he’s thinking along the same lines.

“I better go.” Barry sighs. “I have some grovelling to do. You’ll be ok?”

She smiles and nods at him as she walks him to the door. He gives her an encouraging smile before flitting off into the night.

\----

It feels like she has only been asleep for an hour when the rain wakes her up. The sky is grey and her house feels colder than normal.

She has half a mind to slide back through the covers and not emerge for a few days but she knows she won’t be able to look herself in the face if she hides away now.

She may not like confrontation, but she is no coward.

\---

He stays hidden in his workshop the next day. He’s well aware of how cowardly he is being.

Jesse had given him a strange look when he had refused her company and blamed a project that needed his attention. She understood because she’s been there before and he loathes himself for putting her through that again. 

The simple truth of the matter is, he needs to be alone to think through the events of the previous day and most importantly, the words that Caitlin had uttered. He was certain that he had imagined it and couldn’t help but wish that somebody else could have been there to witness it. He had been utterly shell-shocked and glued to the floor as she hastened out of the room but not before he glimpsed the hurt and anger in her eyes. That look haunted him all night, and he wished desperately for a way to change yesterday. He knows that he should have told her about Flashpoint as soon as he had found out about it but he had never in a million years anticipated that she would reciprocate his feelings.

Looking back, he can see that he was clearly blind to everything.

There had always been a softness to her when she was around him. She dropped her guard a little, threw a joke or a witty remark his way. He remembered the way her hand would linger on his arm sometimes as she leaned over to point something out on the screen in front of him. Her face had displayed nothing which makes him wonder if the act of her leaning over to touch him was instinctive. He knows that she is not a tactile person and it means the world that she instinctively reaches out to him. He may seek her counsel frequently but he has noticed that she does the same as well. It’s always a pleasure to work with her and he’s told her just as well a number of times but he never really heard her when she returned the compliments. 

And then the evening at her home had been a surreal experience.

She’s always drawn him towards her but something about her in the comfort of her home, the simplicity of the meal and the conversation that ranged from heart-wrenching to simply captivating had changed something between them. Over the next few days, he had noticed her lingering in his vicinity more so than usual. There was still a push and pull aspect to them- she would still be guarded at times- but she had warmed to him. Her gaze, direct and wondrous as if she was taking him in for the first time, made his heart clench as memories of Flashpoint ran rampant through his mind.

He had been a complete idiot not to see it then. Or perhaps, he had been willfully ignorant.

He manages to keep himself occupied for a couple of hours, his mind only half attentive to his work. It’s just shy of ten in the morning when he hears his daughter treading through the hallway.

“Dad.” She hurtles through the door, stopping at his desk. “They need you in the cortex.”

The look in her eyes is a mixture of determination and panic which tell him that a metahuman- related problem is at hand. He gets up instantly and walks alongside her in the hallway.

“Is everyone here?” He asks, extremely glad that she nods but doesn’t give him a second glance. The last thing he needs is his daughter learning about the mess he has made.

They are almost at the cortex when he hears her voice, calm and collected as always, and he falters slightly. He takes a breath in as he steps forward into the cortex. Barry and Iris are standing with their usual proximity to each other, most likely having made up. 

“....making it more difficult to locate him.” Cisco stops typing as he hears Harry and Jesse enter the cortex and quitiens immediately. Harry’s gaze lands on Cailtin, just as she turns her own gaze away from Joe, who is standing over her shoulder, and he feels his breath catch in his throat. She’s dressed in a glacier blue sweater, hair tumbling beautifully over her shoulder. Everyone stops what they are doing to watch them. It’s awkward and he feels like he might as well be naked. He’s eternally grateful when Barry clears his throat, jolting everyone out of their reverie and launches into his latest encounter with a metahuman.

It takes them under ten minutes to start doling out tasks to each member of the group. As per usual, there is limited time to figure out the new metahumans’ power. 

“How long do you think you’ll need?” Barry asks Caitlin.

“It won’t take long once I find what I’m looking for. After that, it’s a matter of making a serum, which I can do quickly.” She answers, standing up and running a hand down her trousers.

“I’ll help you.” Harry says, as he starts to walk over to her lab.

“Jesse can help me.”

He stops in his tracks and looks at Caitlin who is avoiding his gaze and instead typing away at the tablet in her hand. She seems distant as she usually does when she’s working but her shoulders are slightly raised and tense. Cisco looks between the two of them, his eyes comically large.

“You want me to help you?” Jesse asks, disbelief evident in her voice. 

“That’s right.” Caitlin finally looks up from the tablet. “Microbiology was one of your majors, right?”

“Yes?”

“I’m assuming you know how to use a pipette and can handle some chemicals?” Caitlin asks Jesse, who nods at her. “C’mon, then.”

Jesse shoots her father a look as she follows Caitlin into her lab. It’s a look that tells Harry that she has some questions for him. He watches the two women as they settle in, talking through theories and snapping on latex gloves.

“You can help me with the suit, Harry.” Cisco says, thumping him on the back and providing him virtually no comfort. “We need to make some adjustments.”

\----

They catch the metahuman just as he was about to wreak havoc on a massive number of people. The Flash saves the day, no doubt making headlines and almost everyone at S.T.A.R Labs is in a jubilant mood.

She leaves early that night, something he has rarely seen her do and he is riddled with guilt, once again.

The next day doesn’t prove to be much different. He makes himself work in the cortex but she doesn’t so much as spare a glance his way, working in her lab for most of the day. Much to his surprise, Jesse asks Caitlin if she could shadow her work and he spends the entire day being distracted by them. He watches the way Jesse looks up at Caitlin, eyes wide with wonder and excitement. Caitlin is patient with her, taking the time to explain concepts in a calm and methodical manner. She is generous with words, praising and encouraging Jesse, who catches on with exceptional speed. His heart twists as he hears them laugh together. His daughter is happier than she has been in a long time and he only gets to view it from a distance.

He is terribly jealous, he realizes, because he misses Caitlin.

He misses the way she would lean back, eyebrows raised and mirth in her eyes as she would give him a teasing smile. He misses her unwavering gaze as she focused her attention on him when he shared something with her. He misses the way their hands would brush as he would hand her a cup of coffee and the way she would let her hands linger for no apparent reason. 

He turns back to the screen, and wonders how long he can survive this.

\---

“Ugh, gross.” She mutters to herself as she tossed the liquid she had brewed down the drain. She hates being wasteful but she cannot stand the way her coffee has been tasting lately. She had tried just about everything but somehow she was unable to command the coffee machine at S.T.A.R Labs to brew a cup to her specifications.

She could ask him, but her pride won’t allow her. 

She had walked into Jitters a few mornings ago and had seen him hunched over in his usual spot and had walked out instantly. Since then she has tried her best to get to S.T.A.R Labs early enough that she can avoid running into him in the kitchen. She’d brew her coffee (terrible each time) in the silence which she would have happily welcomed once but now, it just seemed painful. 

She sighs, wondering if she should make a trip to Jitters, when she hears footsteps making their way towards the room. She turns around just as Harry walks in, and stills as they lock eyes. She has taken great pain over the past two weeks to ensure that she would never have to be in a room alone with him and now as that moment has arrived, she feels frozen to the spot. He ventures further into the room, an empty cup in his hand, no doubt on the hunt for some coffee.

There was a time when she wouldn’t even wait for him to be fully in the room before launching into a conversation. But now, she watches him out of the corner of her eye as he walks towards the coffee machine. She’s secretly hoping he’s the one to break the silence but he hasn’t spoken a word since she found out about Flashpoint. He moves into her vicinity and his familiar scent is enough to jolt her back to her senses. She moves away a little and he looks at her for a quick second before his eyes land on her coffee dregs in the sink and the empty cup she is clutching.

“Coffee not up to the usual standard, Snow?”

She sucks in a breath, taken aback by his words that are personal and impersonal all at once. She hates that he knows she hasn’t had a decent cup since the last time he brewed her one, the very day everything went south. She wants to reply with her usual repartee, something she is renowned for, but she can barely muster up the courage to look him in the eye, much less speak to him. He tilts his head as he considers her, the slightest crease on his forehead. He reaches out, prying the cup from her fingers and she feels her breath catch at the feel of his calloused fingers on her skin. 

He fiddles around with the coffee machine, changing it to his usual setting. She can feel his eyes on her intermittently as the liquid pours into her waiting cup, the scent of coffee curling in the air around. She tries her best to keep her gaze trained on her coffee but her attempts are futile. She hasn’t been this close to him in ages and despite all the emotions she’s felt in the span of minutes, she is still drawn to him like a moth to a flame. He picks up the cup, once the coffee is brewed, and places it into her waiting hand,

She doesn’t taste it as she walks away, knowing it would be perfect and she cannot be bothered to give him the satisfaction. She turns around when she reaches the threshold and he’s already busy making his own cup. She watches him for a second, distracted with the way he moves and says, voice barely above a whisper, “Thank you.”

She does not wait to hear his response. 

\---

“Ah yes, the Snow Drift.” Cisco nods, eyebrows wiggling and a smile on his face. “I know it well.”

Harry bit back the sardonic remark that threatened to spill over, knowing very well that he would lose any good points that he may have left with Cisco. He sighs and sits back in his chair, glancing around the cortex to ensure that they are alone. They have been in a lull for a few days and everyone has scattered to deal with their own personal tasks or take a long break.

He had watched her closely in the kitchen. She had seemed withdrawn but also conflicted. He’s had over a year of observing her and he can tell when she wants to say something but somehow holds herself back. He had been hoping that she would be the one to break this strange tension between them but he realized, as she muttered a thank you and walked out of the kitchen, they would never get anywhere if he waited on her. She was much too hurt at the moment as result of his actions or lack thereof, making her more guarded than usual. He needed advice and thus, he reached out to Cisco.

“The Snow Drift?” He asks, eyebrows raised.

“A term I coined after the first time I made her mad.” Cisco answers, a hint of pride in his voice. ‘Man, did I get some good silent treatment from her.”

“What did you do to upset her?”

“Who knows? It was years ago. The question is,” Cisco continues, leaning forward. “What are _you_ planning to do?

“She doesn’t even look at me, much less talk to me.”

“Then make her.” 

“I won’t force her to have a conversation with me, Ramon.” Harry replies, running a hand over his face. 

“It’s not about forcing, Harry.” Cisco retorts. ”I’ve been watching both of you. She’s running cold and you are straight up terrified.”

“I’m not-”

“You are. And you know it.” Cisco says, calmly. “You are terrified that she won’t feel the same way.”

Harry swallowed. He already knows how she feels but he can’t help wondering if she regrets telling him or worse that she’s talking herself out of those feelings.

“You can’t keep tiptoeing around each other.” Cisco continues. “If you asked her to talk to you, she would willingly do so. But _you_ need to be the one to do it. She will never make the first move.”

Harry nods, as Cisco’s words settled over him. He knows he needs to be brave and muster up the courage because she deserves it. He should have run out after her, he thinks, and told her he felt the same way. He stews over these thoughts that night, wondering when he would find the opportune time to approach her. He comes to the conclusion that he needs to create the opportune moment before he can talk himself out of it. Fortune favors the bold so he decides to follow suit.

He walks into the kitchen the next morning and goes about brewing a coffee. He knows that she walked into the cortex not long ago and hopes she can stay put before ruining his plans. He’s never been one for big romantic gestures but brewing a coffee for Caitlin Snow is something he can manage. He prepares the coffee with extra care and when he is satisfied, he walks towards the cortex. Cisco, Barry and Jesse are engrossed in a spirited discussion and barely bat an eye as he walks past them and into Caitlin’s lab. She’s standing at the far end of the lab with her back to the door, head bent as she reads from her tablet. She clad in the forest green coloured dress and his pulse quickens as he watches her swivel slightly on her heels. 

“Good morning, Snow.” He says, as she turns around. He puts the cup down on the desk and looks at her. She’s pulled her hair up from the front leaving her face open and bare to him. Her eyes, wide as they glance between the cup and him, are tired and he feels ashamed that he might have caused her to lose sleep.

“You brought me coffee?” She says in disbelief and he can’t help but feel he made a good move. He feels a little bolder and moves closer to her.

“We need to talk.” He says, his voice soft ensuring no one else can hear him.

She tilts her head to the side as she considers him, her face betraying nothing. She reaches for the cup and takes a sip.

“We do.” She nods and turns back around to continue her work.

He’s a little disappointed at her lack of encouragement but as he glances at the cortex, he realizes that there are three sets of eyes on them. This may not be the best time but she still wants to talk and that is enough for him right now.

He walks out of Caitlin’s lab, raising an eyebrow at his audience, all of whom scatter instantly.

\---

She comes to him later that day, just as he is about to finish up in his workshop. 

She walks in with her usual air of grace and he is distracted, not for the first time, at how stunning she is. She holds his gaze as she comes to stand across from where he is sitting.

“It’s time.” Her voice slices through the silence.

“It’s time.” He nods.

\---

The room is dim, a lamp here and there casting the faintest light. She knows that he prefers a low light. She leans forward to glance over his shoulder and notices multiple little machines that are probably a part of a bigger piece of technology that he has been working on. He always has an ongoing project or two, even though he is constantly contributing to the team’s daily fight against metahumans. His work ethic is one of the things she admires the most about him.

It’s quiet in the workshop as he watches her lean against the table across from him. She made certain that everyone was occupied with other tasks before making her way here. The impending talk has been looming over her for a better part of the day and she can feel the tension in the air between them. 

“You wanted to talk.” She keeps her voice measured and calm, reminding herself to remain reasonable. 

“Yes, I did.” He pushes his glasses back self consciously and shifts a little on his chair. She gestures with her hand, letting him know that he has the floor.

“Let me start by saying,” His voice is rough but sincere. “I’m sorry for keeping this from you. I never meant for things to escalate like this.”

“Why did you keep it from me?” She asks, choosing to ignore the second part of his statement.

“I don’t know. No, really.” He implores, as she narrows her eyes at him. “It was an almost involuntary instinct at first. I thought, perhaps I wanted to shield you from what would no doubt be a ridiculous piece of information. I figured out, a minute later, that I needed time to process it because I clearly had some deep seated…emotions attached to this information.”

“Because it had to do with your life in another timeline?” She asks, crossing her arms over her chest, unsure of what he’s getting at. He tilts his head to the side and gives her a somber look.

“No, because of you, Snow.” His eyes rove over her face and she sucks in an audible breath. “Because I had never thought, in my wildest dreams, that you and I would be together in any universe. It was overwhelming to hear about Flashpoint especially since I had started to feel very strongly towards you.”

It’s hardly a declaration of love, she thinks, as he watches her intently.

“And then I went into survival mode.” He continues. “I was convinced that this was something I needed to guard with my every being. I was certain that you were better off not knowing. I didn’t want to impose this on you.”

“Then you decided you were going to tell at some point, didn’t you?” She waits with bated breath as she watches him closely. 

“Yes.”

“Something changed that night.” She comments, knowing that she doesn’t need to spell it out for him. They both know what night she’s referring to and her mind takes her back to the blissful night, on her kitchen island. His eyes darken as he nods.

“It did.”

“But you still didn’t say anything.” She can’t help but sound disappointed, petulant even. She had told herself that she would remain calm during this conversation but now that proved to be a difficult feat. Her heart thumped wildly as she felt the familiar feeling of betrayal creep into her being.

“No.” He sighs. “And I have no excuse for that. I only have an apology.”

She nods, wondering why she doesn’t feel satisfied with his answers.

“The coffee thing.” She probes. “You started doing that just after you decided to stay on this Earth. Was that your attempt to…bond with me?

He shakes his head and chuckles, much to her surprise.

“You think I made you coffee because of Flashpoint?” 

“Well,” She starts, cautiously. “You didn’t do it before so it stands to reason.”

He gets up from the stool he had been perched on and paces a few steps. “You would think that, wouldn’t you? That I would have an ulterior motive behind a cup of coffee.”

“Cups. Multiple cups.” She reminds him, eyebrows raised. He walks forward until he’s a few feet from her. It’s close but not too close, she notices, curious at his unusual use of restraint.

“I’ve always wanted to do that.” His voice is low and quiet. “Just like I’ve always wanted to know things about you. Learning about Flashpoint made me realize that I didn’t have to hold back from you. I had an opportunity to show you some...”

“Kindness?” She finishes. He raises an eyebrow at her.

“I was going to say affection, but we can settle on kindness.” He replies. 

“Okay.” She concedes, trying her best to ignore the unsettled feeling in her.

“Can I ask you something?” He shuffles on his feet, looking away and then looking back at her. She nods and watches as he takes a deep breath in.

“Did you mean it?” He asks, his body taut with tension. “What you said that day?”

Once again, she knows what he’s referring to. Despite the recent fissure in their relationship, they are still able to understand each other perfectly. She considers lying, putting up a brave front and blaming the news that had dropped on her. But as she gazes into his startling blue eyes laced with caution and fear, she decided to rise above it. She has no intention of causing him any pain, especially when he’s been honest with her this evening. He’s shared parts of him, albeit cautiously but she knows that a year ago, this would have been unheard of from him. More importantly, she needs to remain honest with herself.

“I did. Every word.” She adds and watches the slightest inkling of hope dawn on his face. She clears her throat, “What now?”

She is genuinely curious about what is next for them. They have established some level of mutual affection but everything with them has been unconventional so far that she wouldn’t even know where to begin. 

“Now,” He sighs. “Maybe you can stop avoiding me when I walk into the cortex.”

If it were anyone else, she would have been tempted to scoff at this statement. But this is Harry- closed off, emotionally insecure Harry- who is in his own way admitting to being hurt by her silence. And while that might not be the answer she was secretly hoping to receive, she knows that in their own way, they have taken a step forward. What those steps lead to is still unsure but it’s a step nonetheless. So she smiles and shakes her head.

“That I can do.” She leans away from the desk. “I’m going to head out for the night.”

He nods, walking backwards to give her room to leave. She looks at him, feeling unsettled for the umpteenth time this evening. She can tell he feels the same because he makes a show of clearing his throat and bidding her goodnight. She walks away thinking of moments when they would stand close to each other without feeling any semblance of embarrassment. And yet, tonight when they stood with a respectable distance between them, the air was thick with awkwardness. 

She’s halfway down the hallway when she finds herself turning around and walking swiftly back to the workshop. He must have heard her returning because he turns around just as she walks in through the door, a curious look on his face. She doesn’t take a moment to evaluate her thoughts and decides to operate on pure instinct, all but lunging towards him. He must understand because his arms wrap around her just as hers coil around his neck. She closes her eyes, reveling in the feeling of him and breathes out a sigh of relief. She bats away tears as she feels an enormous weight lift off of her. He holds her a little tighter, his hand traveling down her spine.

“Caitlin.” He whispers, against her hair. “God, I am so sorry.”

She reaches her hand upward, moving slightly for their bodies to slot flush against each other. He ducks his head a little and says, “I never meant to cause you any pain. Will you forgive me?”

“Forgiven.” She whispers, instantly. She leans her head on him and feels the feather light touch of his lips on the curve of her neck.

\---

“Here you go.” He says as he walks into her lab, cups in hand. She takes the steaming cup from him, her eyes focused on the screen ahead of her. He pulls up a stool and sits next to her, marveling at the difference a few days can make. 

It’s not as if they are suddenly sharing spaces outside of work, but there is a palpable difference in their relationship. They have resumed their visits to Jitters, and he’s back on coffee duty. She has been joining him in the workshop more often as well, working away on her computer and he’s grown to love their companionable silence even more. He’s welcome in her lab again and he has taken every opportunity he can find (without being overly clingy) to spend time with her. There are still not addressing some things he would like to but he can sense that she wants to put a pause on it for the moment. He’s alright with that for the most part but occasionally at night, when his demons strike the strongest, he feels panicked about the unknown. This feeling is always gone in the mornings, particularly as he spends time with her. It must show on his face because his daughter has commented on it. Jesse seems to be taking his apparent happiness in a good stride and he’s never been more grateful.

“It’s incredible.” Caitlin says, shaking her head. She wraps both hands around the cup and he has to remind himself to breathe as he remembers the feel of her hands brushing against his neck. He had been certain that evening, when he heard her heels clicking down the hallway and she had appeared at the door, that she came back to smack him across his face. He wouldn't have blamed her if she _had_ done that but she had just charged towards him, giving absolutely no warning of things to come. 

“Can you believe she analysed this on her own?” She continues, clicking through the screen. “You’re daughter is a genius.”

“She is.”

“I mean it.” She turns to look at him. “I couldn’t do this until graduate school.”

He smiles wider now, his heart swells at the adoration in her voice. He has been thrilled to watch his daughter enjoy science as much as she enjoyed being a speedster. Her face lights up when she works with the equipment in Caitlin’s lab, and shares her progress. But he has been especially pleased to watch Cailtin and Jesse bond in a way he has never seen his daughter do before. Well…not in this timeline, anyway.

“Thank you for all the time you have been spending with her.” He says. 

Her face softens at his words.

“Of course. I enjoy her company very much.”

“I’m glad. It means a lot to me that you do.” He replies, watching as she processes his words. She has a curious look on her face but as usual, she never asks. 

\---

  
  


“It wouldn’t hurt to be a bit more cautious, Jess.” He admonishes his daughter who, in typical fashion, sighs and rolls her eyes.

“Caution doesn’t help anyone, Dad. If I had waited and worried, I wouldn’t have been able to save those people tonight.”

He looks over at Barry, who is walking alongside them. They are returning from an encounter with a metahuman that has Harry feeling unsteady. It’s one thing to watch Barry take on a powerful being and be worried, but when it is his daughter- his little girl- he is a nervous wreck. Jesse’s skill might have improved tremendously over the past few months but she still works primarily on instinct. She runs in head first, unyieldingly certain she can face danger, even if everyone else dissuades her. She almost always comes out the other end a victor. She had done the same things tonight, saving many people and rescuing Barry in a few short seconds. Barry has nothing but praise for her, and Harry can’t help but feel proud, under all his anxiety.

“Besides,” She continues, “I’m a speedster, I live for a little danger.”

She smiles up at her father, a twinkle in her eyes and he knows that she is baiting him. Over her shoulder, he sees Barry hide a smirk and shakes his head at them.

“Wait till you have one of these.” He warns Barry, feeling pleased at the look of horror on Barry’s face and relaxes as they walk into the cortex. They have worked exceptionally hard on this case and he can’t help but feel the sense of camaraderie, something he had avoided for a long time, with Team Flash. 

The mood in the cortex is drastically different from their own. He feels the smile drop from his face as he looks at Joe and Iris, who look at them with trepidation. Barry senses that something is off and asks, “What’s going on?”

Joe and Iris exchange a look.

“What is it?” Jesse asks, her arms crossed over her chest. 

“The meta human you caught tonight?” Joe starts, clearing his throat. “Well, he came here just after you and Barry sped off with your Dad.”

“Why didn’t you tell us over the comms?” Barry demands. Joe and Iris share another look and Iris walks forward. She stops a couple of feet away from Harry, her eyes trained on him, who feels a chill come over him as he understands the intensity of her gaze.

“Where is she?” Harry finds himself asking. It’s almost as if time slows down and the beat of heart is egregiously loud in his ears. Iris moves closer to him, placing her hands on his arms, her dark eyes filled with sympathy.

“Harry, you have to remain calm.” She says, most probably noting the tension in his stance. “The meta came here and tried to attack us. Cisco used his powers and the meta left to where you, Barry and Jesse were but Caitlin got caught in the crossfire. She knew one of you would have come racing back and she wanted to make sure that we caught this meta. So she asked us to handle the comms and Cisco took her to the hospital.”

There is a pin drop silence in the cortex. It was moments like this when the gravity of what they dealt with daily became more real than ever. Jesse collapsed into a chair while Barry shuffled around, shaking his head.

“You guys should have called us.” Barry says, accusingly. “I mean, one of us could have handled him alone.”

Harry watched Jesse and Barry exchange a glance, both knew that tonight’s meta required two speedsters. Iris was still looking up at him, her hands on his arms felt foreign.

“Harry.” She rubs his arm lightly, concern evident in her voice. “You haven’t said anything.”

“Is she alright?” He asks, feeling the anxiety course through his veins. He has no idea how he is still standing upright. His legs feel like they might give way even from a slight breeze.

“Cisco said he would call with an update soon.”

He nods and finds himself reaching for Iris’s hand on his left arm. He sees the surprise in her eyes and he holds on to her hand for dear life.

“Was she..” He swallows. “Was she hurt badly?”

The cortex is completely silent again, as the question that everyone wants to ask is posed. He preparers himself mentally, knowing that there is potential for him to break into pieces at the answer.

“It looked pretty bad.” Iris answers, her voice soft. “Bad enough that Caitlin agreed to go to the hospital instead of patching herself up.”

Iris gives them enough information to calm their nerves but clearly doesn’t get into the specifics of Caitlin’s injuries. She is a journalist after all, he thinks, and knows how to be diplomatic.

“We should go to the hospital.” Barry remarks. “She shouldn’t be alone.”

“No.” Joe says, instantly. “You took quite a beating today, Barry and might not have made it if it wasn't for this one here.” He pointed at Jesse, who preens at his praise. “Caitlin is not alone, Cisco’s with her. You both need to rest and recover.”

“But-”

“You know if Caitlin was here, she would say the same thing.” Joe interjects “She also asked that no one else come to the hospital right now.”

Barry sighs, running his hand through his hair, as he nods. He replaces his suit in a whirlwind move and slumps in the nearest chair he can find.

“It’s just like her to insist she has to go through something by herself.” Barry notes, looking up at Harry.

\---

The minutes feel like hours as they wait. He wonders if there is a time slowing meta at work, testing their limits just because they can.

Jesse brings him another cup of tea and he downs it only to see the satisfied look on her face. She’s curious, he knows, never having seen him fret over someone else’s well being quite this way. 

He has a tendency to focus on the worse case scenario. It probably stems from having to make his own way in the world. Life has been cruel to him and he’s made his peace with the fact that it may continue this way for him.

But it cannot be this way for Caitlin. She deserves castles and fairy tales, not reality and agony.

Iris’s phone chirps and she reaches for it instantly. He watches her face with bated breath as she reads the text.

She looks at Harry as soon as she is done reading and lets out a soft, wobbly smile.

\---

The jolt of power that sent her flying through the room left a strange imprint on her. The doctors assured her that it was psychological and probably the adrenaline coursing through her body. Other than some scraps and bruises, there was no dire harm done to her and was expected to make a full recovery. 

There was a knock on her door as she slipped on her pajamas.

“Caitlin? Are you decent?”

“Yes, come in.” She answers.

“You good?” Cisco asks, walking into her room. “Need anything?”

“Can you help me pull the duvet cover off?” She lowered her hand to tie the drawstring of her pajama bottoms. Cisco does as asked, with exemplary care and she can’t help but smile at him.

“Thanks, Cisco.”

He nods as he fluffs the pillows on her bed. He looks worn out, no doubt having had a terrible night himself. It’s somehow harder to be the person waiting for their friend in recovery and she can empathize with his anguish. Barry walks in, glass of water in hand.

“I thought I’d bring you some water.”

She clasps the glass and nearly empties it in one go. 

“Thanks, Barry.” She sets the glass down, looking at Barry for any signs of injury. “Are you okay? I heard you had a scuffle.”

“I’m fine. _Really_.” He adds as she gives him a look of disbelief. “Joe looked over my scraps and so did Jesse. We are both ok. See?”

He pulls his sweater back showing her his forearm. There is a faint scar that will most likely be gone by morning.

“Alright.” She is satisfied, seeing no evidence of a life threatening injury. “But you let me know the moment you feel anything out of the ordinary.”

“I will.”

“And Jesse too.”

“I’ll tell her.” Barry smiles at her fondly, before the worry returns to his eyes. “You should rest.”

“I will-" She stops when she hears the scuffling of feet and hushed voices outside the bedroom door. “Is someone else here?” 

“Yeah, Iris and Harry just got here. He-they wanted to see you.” Barry explains.

She finds herself reeling at Barry’s words and wonders if her painkillers might be kicking in. She understands that it’s a nice gesture, but she feels ambushed at the thought of Harry being in her home. She follows Barry and Cisco out into the living room and braces herself for what she might find.

He’s standing by the fireplace, hands gliding over the mantelpiece. He is dressed in his usual black, the coat outlining his lean physique. He turns around as she walks into the room, his eyes scanning her for injuries. 

“Caitlin.” Iris exclaims, reaching out and touching her shoulder. “You had us worried for a minute. I’m glad you are okay.”

“Thank you, Iris.” She answers, shifting her gaze to Harry. “You didn’t need to come all the way here, I’m doing better already.”

“Well, we wanted to make sure you were okay.” Iris says, hitching her purse over her shoulder. 

“Cait, you missed a button.” Barry points out. She reaches her hand out and attempts to remedy her mistake.

“Here, let me.” Barry reached out, grasping the button and swatting her hand away. He let it go instantly, as if the button was on fire and she follows his gaze to find Harry extremely still, the blue colour of his eyes ablaze, as he shot Barry a pointed look. 

“We were thinking that one of us should stay with you tonight.” Cisco comments, crossing his arms over his chest. “They gave you some very heavy medications and you might need a hand at some point.”

She nods, much too tired to put up a fight. She rarely likes people to be in her space but she cannot afford to be picky when she is beaten down.

“It’s settled, then.” Cisco thumps Harry on the back. “You're on babysitting duty.”

“Wait, Cisco aren’t you staying with me?” Caitlin asked. Cisco had spent a fair share of time in her apartment when the particle accelerator had exploded, insisting that she not be alone. But she knew that he needed the companionship just as much those days. Ever since, she’s always stocked her pantry with his favorite food and drink.

“We thought Harry might be the best person for this.” Iris notes.

“Why?” Caitlin inquires, leaning on the armchair as the fatigue washes over her. 

Everyone was quiet for a few seconds, their eyes darting between Harry and Caitlin. Barry clears his throat, “Well, I-”

“I’d like to be here.” Harry interrupts. “If you are okay with it.”

He looks like an outsider, standing off to the side in his dark clothes and guarded eyes. She realizes, as much as her hazy brain allows her too, that he is preparing himself for her rejection. 

She nods her assent and watches as everyone clears out of her home, wishing her a good night’s rest. The door clicks shut and she turns her attention back to Harry. He is still standing in the same spot, slipping off his coat.

“How are you?” The timbre of voice sounds comforting, like honey dripping into a hot cup of tea. 

“Like I’ve had too much wine and can’t remember the number of glasses.” He smiles at her analogy and visibly relaxes.

“Are you in pain?” 

“Not really.” She answers, running her hand up her arm. “Just wired and tired at the same time. Hey! I made a rhyme.”

She knows how ridiculous she sounds yet somehow she cannot stop herself from rambling. He smiles a little wider and moves forward, placing his hand on hers. His touch is light but she can feel goosebumps up her arm and is grateful that she is wearing full sleeves. 

“Do you want to sit down?” He asks. He seems to be the only thing in her vision, the lights encircling his head like a halo.

“I think…” She swallows, her throat dry despite the glass of water she had chugged. “I think I would like to go to bed now.”

She stands up straight, reaching up to hold his arm as they walk towards her room. 

“Wait.” She stops, looking up at him. “Are you going to be okay...spending the night here?”

“I will, Snow.” He assures her. “Your couch looks more than adequate.”

“You are not sleeping on the couch.” She watches him still, feeling the rigidity in the arm she’s clutching. His face is impassive, but his eyes have that look he gets when he feels particularly emotional. He looks towards her bedroom, and swiftly back at her.

“Where am I sleeping, then?” The air between them seems thick, charged with unspoken words.

“There is a guest room down the hall.” She points towards the door and he nods. “There are fresh towels in the adjoining bathroom. If there is anything else you need, just let me know.”

“Thanks.” He tugs her gently, resuming their course to her room. She walks over to one side of the bed, attempting to climb it when she feels a sharp pain in her side. She gasps and Harry steps towards her instantly.

“Here, let me help you.”

“It’s ok. I’ll try again... _oww_.” She stills, catching her breath, and relents. 

“Place your hands on the bed for leverage.” Once she has done so, he moves forward and places his hand on her waist, pushing her softly towards the bed. “Now, sit down.”

She sits down on the bed, facing him. He bends down, lowering his hand and looks up at her, a silent question on his face. She nods, and he clasps both her legs, around the calves. He swings her legs up, deliberately and slowly, as if she were made of glass. 

“Thank you, Harry.” She mutters, settling against the pillows. He pulls the duvet over her, letting the fabric drop from his hands as she takes it from him. “I’m going to leave the light on for a bit.”

He nods, retreating away from her.

“Goodnight, Snow.” He whispers, reaching for the handle to close the door.

“Leave it open, please.” She says, as sleep engulfed her like a wave.

\---

He’s lost count of how many hours he has been awake.

On second thought, it might just be minutes that feel like hours. The guest room is neat, well-stocked, and smells like pine trees. There are more pillows than he needs and the sheets, in hues of grey, black, and blue to match the room, are softer than he is used to. They smell crisp, as if they were just brought out from the laundry. He knows he shouldn’t be surprised that she maintains a guest room so splendidly, considering she does everything to perfection.

He’s left the door ajar. He gazes through it and follows the warm glow that’s coming from her room. He is incredibly grateful that no long standing harm was done to her. He was certain that she would have much rather had Cisco stay over and had sighed with relief when she agreed to let him stay.

It had been Iris’s idea. She had been staring straight ahead, driving them to Caitlin’s home, and suggested that Harry stay the night with her. He had been shocked, turning his head to look at her, not sure what she was implying, but she had just smiled.

He wasn’t sure how Caitlin would have felt, having him back in her house and perhaps the medication had prevented any coherent emotion from spilling into her words. There was a sway in her step when they had walked into her room which was unlike the rest of her lush and striking home. Her bedroom was more like the woman he knew, ridiculously elegant, but also was soft and feminine.

And when she had laid back against the pillows, her dark pajamas a stark contrast to the soft ivory bedding, he had needed a minute to compose himself.

\---

There is something heavy against her rib. It reminds her of her childhood dog, the way he would nuzzle up under the covers laying his soft head against her body. With her eyes still closed, she reaches her hand across her body, half expecting his warm head to be there. Instead, all she finds is a tender, swollen bruise against the ladder of ribcage.

She bats her eyes open, while simultaneously reaching for the painkillers she had placed on her nightstand. Her body was sore, she noted as she downs the pills, but she didn’t feel as if she would topple over at the slightest breeze. She takes a deep breath, bracing herself for any pain that might come as she steps onto the cold floor. It took her longer than usual to get herself upright but she was glad to see that she could manage it without any assistance. The lamp was turned off and she was fairly certain that she had not been the one to do so. 

She pads through her room, grabbing a cardigan that was hung on the back of her door. She tried to be as quiet as possible, considering that it was barely five in the morning. She runs herself a bath, hoping to alleviate some of her body ache. It takes her more effort than she has anticipated, but she makes it in and out of the bathtub safely. She steps towards the kitchen, desperate for some coffee, and shivers. The autumn chill seemed to have made it’s way indoors, taking up residence in the nooks and crannies of the house. 

Halfway through the cup of coffee, she hears the guest room click open. She looks up just as Harry walks in, his steps faint. He looks the same as usual, bright eyes and messy hair. She notices his slow gait and points to the counter behind her.

“Coffee’s ready.”

He grunts out an acknowledgement and walks towards the coffee machine. He remembers where the cups are kept, she notices with awe. He takes a sip and she can almost hear his contented sigh as he sits down on the kitchen island, across from her.

“You were up early.” He comments, glancing at the half-finished coffee and book in front of her.

“I’ve always been an early riser.” She shrugs. “Residency will do that to you.”

“Do you miss it?” His voice, familiar and soft, makes her want to spill all her secrets into the quiet air of the morning.

“I miss…” She ponders, fingers running over the rim of her cup. “I miss connecting with patients. I never really get to do that anymore. You felt you were making a difference in someone’s life.”

“You are still making a difference.” He comments, matter of factly.

“Oh, I know.” She replies. “But it’s not the same.”

He watches her as he takes another sip and she fights the urge to wrap her sweater closer around her. His gaze has always had a way of making her feel exposed.

“How do you feel?”

“Better.” She answers. “I’m still in pain but I’m able to move around.”

“I suppose you didn’t really need me to stay.” He has a slight smirk on his face.

“You were a lot of help.” She assures him. “Thanks for putting up with a drugged up version of me, for helping me get into bed, and for turning the light off.”

He gives her a proper smile now and she can feel that they are on somewhat equal ground now. 

“I mean it. Thank you.”

He waves his hand noncommittaly. “Tell me what happened at S.T.A.R Labs.”

She recounts the events of the previous day in detail. He listens without interrupting, absorbing everything. She tells him the shock and pain of getting hit, the loss of control she felt when Joe insisted she go to the hospital, and Cisco holding her hand all the way to the hospital.

“He was strong, but I could tell he wanted to cry.” She remembers. The events from yesterday remind her that she hasn’t eaten in a very long time. “I’m starving. Would you like some breakfast?”

“None for me. Here, let me.” He says, as she begins getting up. She sits back down, directing him to toast a bagel. He opens the kitchen window to let some fresh air in, moving around her kitchen with a familiar ease as if he’d done this many times before. 

“Peanut butter in the cabinet behind you.”

He slathers peanut butter liberally on her bagel and she smiles. He must have done the same for Jesse too. 

“Are you sure you don’t want anything?” She asks as he places the bagel in front of her. 

“I don’t eat breakfast most days.” 

She nods, biting into the bagel and stops almost instantly. She can see cinnamon sprinkled onto the brown spread and can taste the sweet, heady flavor on her tongue. She swallows and looks up at him.

“Cinnamon?” She asks. His hand freezes on the coffee pot handle, his body rigid. He recovers quickly, turning around and topping off his cup. “How did you know?”

“I must have heard you mention it at some point.” He sits down, across from her again. He is avoiding her gaze and she needs no convincing, feeling the certainly in her bones.

“Flashpoint.” She states. He finally looks at her, confirming her suspicion. 

She shakes her head slightly as she reluctantly takes another bite. Despite all their closeness in the past few days, Flashpoint still hangs between them like a mountain they are unable to cross.

“Snow.” He waits until she looks up at him. “Do you...would you like to know about Flashpoint?”

“You always say it’s best not to know.” It sounds more accusing that she intends it to.

“I know. But it only seems fair. ” He says, sincerely. “We can arrange for Cisco to vibe it or I can tell you about it.”

She couldn’t believe the words she was hearing from his mouth. He had always vehemently advocated not divulging knowledge of past or future timelines yet here he was, so willingly bending his principles.

“I won’t lie to you. I have thought about it.” She mumbles. “I can’t see what good will come of it though.”

“Yes.” He clears his throat. A flicker of hurt passes his face just as he looks away. “You are probably right.”

“Harry.” She leans forward, waiting until he looks at her, his face marred with anguish. She feels an unusual surge of courage flow through her as the words topple out of her mouth. “I don’t need to see Flashpoint to confirm anything. Whatever I feel will be here regardless.”

The air around them stills. She wants to look away from his bright gaze but knows how swiftly courage of this sort departs from her and so she doesn’t relent. 

“What about you?” She asks as nerves bundle up in the pit of her stomach. He raises an eyebrow at her.

“Do you need me to know the specifics of Flashpoint?” She continues. “Before we move forward?”

“We…” His eyes widen. “We are moving forward?”

“Don’t you want to?” She whispers, looking at her cup because his answer has the power to shatter her very being.

“God, _Snow_. How can you…” He runs a hand through his hair. “Of course, I do. I was waiting on you to… I wanted to give you time.”

“We’ve had enough time, Harry. Let’s stop _wasting_ time.” She answers, as her heart leaps at his words. They look at each other, a little shell-shocked at their conversation.

“What now?” He asks.

“Now…” She smiles. “I’m going to brew another pot of coffee.”

\---

They made their way to the living room, clutching their coffee for warmth. She lights a fire which simmers and crackles, accompanied by the smooth sounds of a saxophone. She seemed incapable of sitting in that room without turning on a record, he mused.

“Why jazz?” He asks.

“Oh, my parents probably.” She answers. “Listen to this part.”

She closes her eyes at the saxophone solo and he takes the opportunity to observe her. She’s clothed in a white cardigan, hair undone and face bare. Other than her complaints of a few aches, she looks back to her normal self. He’s so used to seeing a different part of her at S.T.A.R. labs, that he is a little dazed at her utterly relaxed appearance. 

Or perhaps, their conversation in the kitchen had something to do with it.

He’s a grown man and really should _not_ be losing his damn mind at her words. But this is Caitlin and he had convinced himself that she would never want him in a million years. After everything they have been through over the past few weeks, he can’t help but feel lighter, as if the world he so desperately wanted was now within his clutches.

He has put all work aside for the day and would happily bask in her company. She wanders over to the kitchen just before noon to fix them some lunch and he takes the opportunity to observe her surroundings. There are no childhood mementos and very few photographs, none of her family. There’s a photograph of her, Cisco and Barry, arms encircling each other, wearing wide smiles. There is another photograph next to it of Caitlin and a woman with dark hair. Both women were clearly in the middle of a conversation, wine glasses clasped in their hands as they shared a laugh.

“A little help?” Caitlin's voice carries over from the kitchen. He makes his way over and takes the steaming plates from her, placing them on the island. 

“Who’s the woman in the photograph with you, in the red dress?” He helps her into the chair.

“That’s Olivia.” Her voice warms instantly, a smile taking over her face. “She’s one of my oldest friends.”

“You don’t have many photographs around your home.” He states, as he settles across from her. She tilts her head, considering his comment.

“I suppose I don’t really care for them.” She answers, picking up her fork. She’s not being entirely truthful because he’s certain he glimpsed a photograph of Ronnie on her nightstand. He doesn’t bring it up and instead sits down.

She is a brilliant cook and he wonders if there is anything she can’t do. He tells her just as much and she brushes him off. She’s never been good at accepting compliments, he mused.

Her phone beeps as he’s clearing up the kitchen, and he watches her go slack-jawed.

“Snow?” He asks, drying a plate with a dish towel.

“I’m supposed to be attending the ballet tonight!” She cries, her voice more shrill than he’s ever heard it before. “I cannot believe I forgot.”

“Can you use your ticket for another night?”

She gives him an unimpressed look and he hides his own amusement. 

“It’s not a ticket for a barn dance, Harry. It’s the Central City Ballet.” She says, disappointment evident on her face. “It's _Giselle!_ I can’t believe I’m going to miss it. Unless…”

“Unless what?” He leans against the kitchen counter.

“Would you like to go with me?”

He stills as her words settle over him. He almost wonders if he’s hallucinating but her eyes, a strange mix of hopeful and anxious, are looking up at him intently.

“I mean...if you don’t have any plans.” She adds, looking over his shoulder. “Or not. Whatever, this was...It’s fine.”

She starts to walk past him and he shoots a hand out to stop her. She winces a little as his hand meets her shoulder, no doubt hurting because of a bruise.

“Sorry.” He lightens his hold. “Don’t take my hesitation for a no. You just surprised me. I would be very happy to join you.”

“Really?”

“Of course.” He halts, anxiety flooding through him. “What would this be? Is this a -”

“Oh no, it doesn’t have to be.” She says hurriedly, brushing a hand through her hair. “We don’t need to….define anything.”

Get a grip, he tells himself as his heart sinks a little, she’s asking you to spend an evening with her. But he cannot help but feel disappointed. He likes certainties and parameters. He’s a scientist, always seeing every facet of life through these lenses. She is a pragmatist, in every sense of the word. He considers that she might still be uncertain, being well aware that she has a penchant for doubting others.

Cisco, who seems to have an endless supply of clothing stocked at S.T.A.R. Labs, is kind enough to provide him with the appropriate attire for the evening. He even delivers them to Caitlin’s house later that afternoon.

“How is she?” Cisco asks, stepping in with a garment bag in hand.

“She’s taking a nap. Do I even want to know why you have a full outfit in my size?” He crosses his arms, watching Cisco open the garment bag.

“For disguise or undercover work. Duh.” Cisco rolls his eyes. “Not that you ever lend a hand in the field.”

“I’m a scientist.”

“Yeah, so are the rest of us.” Cisco retorts.

Still, he is grateful that Cisco is such a resourceful friend, as he put the cuff links into place. He walks into the living room, settling down with a book he had been perusing after lunch, to kill time. She had warned him that she would be a while, blaming her recent juries for her slow pace. Despite her profuse reassurance that she did not need his help, he kept an ear sharp for any stumbling sounds from her room.

He’s properly engrossed in the book when he hears her venturing out of her room.

“Ready?” She asks. He snaps the book shut and turns around. Her slender frame is sheathed in a black dress, the luminous material running past her ankles. Her lips are painted a sinful red colour, her face bright and showing absolutely no sign of the ordeal she had been through yesterday. The setting sun glowed behind her as she walked toward him and he very nearly lost his breath.

\---

He feels a little dazed as he walks through the crowd and bright lights of the massive room. They are stopped several times by people who exchange pleasantries with Cailtin as if they have known her for a very long time. By the sixth time it happens, they are in their seats and he raises an eyebrow at her.

“My mother’s family owns the building.” She explains. “My parents were patrons and so am I.”

“Now, it makes sense.” He smirks. The lights dim and the orchestra begins to play the opening music when he hears her whisper softly into the space between them.

“My parents met here. They were watching _Giselle_.” 

He inhales sharply at her confession as the dancers begin to prance their way onto the stage. 

The story is devastatingly tragic, the music exhilaratingly beautiful, and the dancers sublime. But he mostly watches Caitlin watch the ballet. Her eyes light up at some moments, and at others her face mimics the despair of the dancers. He's terribly distracted by her, despite his best attempt not to be. He gives up by the first pas de deux and lets himself dwell on arresting details like the way her hair curls down her back and the way she smells like cold, winter nights.

Over two hours later she dabs at her eyes, as the ballet ends and the lights go on, and turns to him, a soft and warm smile on her face. She slips her hand in the crook of his elbow as they walk out, and he feels the realization run through his body, like a bolt of lightning.

He could happily spend the rest of his days with this woman.

They take a cab to her home, having previously agreed that she would be alright by herself tonight. He insists on dropping her off though, assuring her that he wants to see her home safe. He’s desperate for this night to continue as long as it can.

She’s in a good mood as they make their way to her apartment, picking apart the intricacies of the ballet. He opens the door for her, turning a few lights on as she begins to take her shoes off.

“Can I persuade you to have a nightcap with me?”

She looks so terribly endearing, hair and makeup still in place, dressed elegantly and barefooted. He wants to stay for as long as she would have him and would happily take whatever else she’s willing to give him. But he knows, deep in his heart, that he needs to be honest with her, now more so than ever. 

“I would gladly stay for a nightcap.” He says, his voice measured and calm. She sobers at the serious note in his voice and inches closer to him. She flicks a stray curl over her shoulder, hands gliding across the curve of her neck. He remembered so vividly, what the skin of her neck felt like under his lips. She’s no doubt thinking of the same moment, because her eyes are intense with emotion.

“And I would never want to leave ever again.” He continues, shrugging. “I like definitions.”

Her eyes are wide as she absorbs his words. She is terrifyingly still and he urges himself to continue. 

“This is it for me, Snow. _You_ are it. There is nothing else I want but you.”

“Harry…” She looks away and then back at him. “It’s not that I don’t want-”

“Don’t.” He stops her. “Not right now, not tonight. Just go to bed. We can talk about this tomorrow, if you want. Or.” He swallows, holding her gaze.

“Or we never have to talk about this ever again.”

\----

S.T.A.R Labs looked almost haunted in the early hours of the morning. It was barely seven and there was absolutely no sign of any life. Except of course, she knew that he was inside, most probably tinkering away at something in the workshop.

She thought of him the moment she opened her eyes this morning. He had been a picture of calmness in his sharp attire, which highlighted his lean and strong physique tremendously, as she had walked out her room all dressed up but his eyes were dark, ablaze with intensity, as they rove over her. He had been quieter then usual, observing the vibrant surroundings and the numerous people that had approached her. She had been engrossed in the ballet for the most part but she was certain that he had been stealing glances at her. There was something so strange about watching _Giselle_ with the man she loved. It felt like she was in an alternate universe when they returned from the show, feeling more elated than she had thought she was capable of. And then, he had left so abruptly but not before tossing the ball in her court, yet again.

It seemed like all they did was throw chances at each other, hoping the other one would grasp it.

But this felt different. He had implied, not so subtly, that he wanted her for the rest of his life. She had shuddered when he said as much, filled partially with joy and fear. She was so certain she wanted the same but knew, deep in her heart, that it would mean leaving certain parts of her life behind.

Dead husbands cannot be a part of a new relationship, she had thought as gazed at Ronnie’s photograph on her nightstand, in the early hours of the morning.

She felt silly, knowing well that Harry would never ask her to forget parts of her life just for the sake of convenience. They each had a wonderful love in their lives and were incredibly lucky to have been given a second chance at this. He had known that she was still uncertain, she mused, hence he gave her the opportunity to choose the parameters. She could walk away now, heart relatively intact, and he would no longer chase her. Not that he ever needed to chase her very hard when she went so willingly. 

She had pottered around the house, putting a load of laundry, mopping the kitchen floor, wiping down counters. She had dressed with her usual care, selecting a grey woolen dress that cinched in at the waist. She had pondered over what she would say to him as she painted her cheeks with pink rouge and dabbed on perfume. She had shrugged her coat on as she made her way out of the room, and stopped suddenly at the guest room.

She had pushed the door open with a light hand and switched the lights on. Despite being host to Harry for a night, the room looked unchanged. The sheets were stretched across the bed as usual, the decor untouched. She had reached, running a gentle hand over the pillow he would have laid his head on. It was as if he was here, but not.

She felt a strong urge suddenly, hitting her like a ton of bricks, to see him.

And so she found herself at S.T.A.R Labs, much earlier than usual. She hung up her coat and peeked into her lab, smiling when she noticed that Jessie had been working in the lab. Jesse had a habit of leaving drawers and cupboards open. There will be more time, she hoped, for them to discuss some rules and good practices of working in her lab.

She brewed two cups of coffee, one to her liking and one to his. So what if she was a little nervous, she thought to herself. It was normal to feel a little trepidation at the prospect of a new relationship. But this is Harry, her mind reminded her, and the stakes are incredibly high. She grabbed both cups, braced herself, and walked out of the kitchen.

The walk to the workshop felt like an hour, the thudding of heart seemed louder than the clicking of her heels. The door was open, emitting the warm glow of the light he was working in. His back was to her, as he perched on a stool, scribbling at a piece of paper. An equation that would eventually make it to the glass board in front of him. She hears him sigh as he reaches out to rub the back of his neck. He rolls his shoulders and she decides that she had lurked in the shadows enough.

“Morning.” He turned around instantly at the sound of her voice. He looked tired, as if he had been up all night. His eyes drifted over and settled on the cups clasped in her hands. 

“Good morning.” He replies cautiously. “How...are you?”

“Alright.” She answers. His gaze was intense and questioning all at once. “Did you get any sleep?”

“Barely.”

She had suspected as much but couldn’t find the words to say so. The anxiety simmered away as he glanced again at the coffee in her hands. She moved forward at his questioning gaze, laying both coffees down on the table. She was closer to him now, not quite level with him, despite the fact he was sitting down. 

“What’s that?” He tilts his head towards the cups she had laid down. She raises an eyebrow at him, a smile tugging at her lips.

“It’s a beverage called coffee.”

“Don’t…” He starts, shaking his head. He gazes at her, his eyes unusually vulnerable. “Is this just-”

“Look, I thought about what you said last night.” She says, forgetting any sense of propriety as she moved closer and laid her hands on his crossed arms. “A lot. I’ve thought about you most days for the past few months. And I’ve thought of nothing but _us_ for the last few weeks. I’d be lying if I said I’m completely ready for this. I’m not very good at relationships and…”

“And?” He asks softly. The fabric of his shirt felt soft under her hand and she rubs it gently. He looks down at her hand and then back up at her, the slightest flush settling on his face.

“I might screw it up.” She confesses.

“I could too.” He adds.

“Maybe it would have been different if either one of us had made a move.” She suggests. “Maybe I should have asked you for coffee or drinks or something before you had planned to go back to Earth-2. Maybe if you and I had met at some other time, perhaps at a conference or at a university….”

He has an unsettled look on his face as he took great measures to avoid her gaze. She knew that look and what it signified.

“Of course” She mutters “Is that how we met in Flashpoint?”

He met her questioning gaze. “I thought you didn’t want to know.”

It was so very tempting to let him continue, because her curiosity had certainly peaked. But she also knew the consequences. 

“No. I don’t” She affirms.

“Will we ever move past Flashpoint?” He asks, sorrow evident in his voice. “You have no idea how much I regret-”

“No, don’t” She stops him. “If it wasn’t for Flashpoint, you would have been on Earth-2 right now.”

“I would have been glum and even harder to be around, if that is possible.” They share a chuckle, and she feels the tension dissipate. 

“I’m yours, Harry. For as long as you will have me.” She whispered into the air between them. 

He looks stumped, as if he had been clumped over the head with a bat. She is about to ask if he was alright, when he reaches for her hand and tugs her closer until she is standing almost between his legs. Their posture reminds her of the day she found out about Flashpoint and moments before when they had been inelegantly tangled. She had almost asked him that day to attend _Giselle_ with her and she couldn’t help but smile. Her wish had come true even if it wasn’t the way she had intended it to. But here he was, smiling up at her in a wistful yet worshipful way.

“Put me out of my misery, Snow.” He whispers and she does, leaning down to meet him halfway.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for any science and/or ballet related errors.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the last chapter to this story. I hope it was worth the wait and thank you ever so much to everyone who reads it. Please note that this chapter has some heavier themes such as nightmares, emotional baggage, conversations about the future (marriage, kids etc.)
> 
> Thank you, J, for championing me along this rollercoaster of a ride.

There are no declarations after that day, there is never any need for it.

They fall into the easiest of rhythms, slotting together like two pieces of a puzzle. There is a sudden intimacy to them, weaving them seamlessly into each other's lives and after months of missed opportunities and misunderstandings, it is a welcome change. He makes her coffee, she makes him dinner. She makes a fire for them in the evenings, he pours them a drink.

No explanation is given to anyone. Everyone seems to understand that in the span of a day, everything changed for them.

\---

She is an early riser. 

He’s always known that, of course, but seeing it play out in front of his eyes is a whole new thing. She begins to stir, having no need for an alarm, in the early hours of the morning. She blames her time working in a hospital, needing to be on rounds at first light but he knows that she genuinely loves the quiet of the morning. She waters the plants, brews a coffee and settles down under a blanket as the cold morning air wafts in through the window. He admires her early hours, despite the disappointment of waking up in bed alone.

She likes to go to bed early, something he cannot manage to do himself. She is home only for a few hours before he finds her slipping on her pajamas and heading off to bed with a cup of tea and a book.

“It doesn’t bother you?” He asked one night as he stumbled into her home, bleary eyed and bone tired from a long day of working on Barry’s suit.

“That I go to bed alone and wake up with you in it?” She had raised an eyebrow and smirked at him. “Of course not.”

She likes to play a record while she goes about her chores and has a penchant for both well-known and obscure jazz musicians. He has learned that she cooks frequently, relishing in not just the consumption of food but also the preparation of it. He woke to the smell of cinnamon and maple syrup a few weeks ago and was astonished that oatmeal could smell so enticing. 

The apartment, on nights when she doesn't make a fire, stays on the cooler side. He had complained about it one evening and she tossed a blanket at him. He bundled up, realizing that it was her preference and not a quirk of her home. She keeps a sliver of the window open in her bedroom and he has almost gotten used to sleeping in the cold temperature. So what if he wears socks to bed?

She works tirelessly, even when there is no dangerous meta human threatening their safety. There is always research to be done, papers to read, and tests to run. He smiles to himself when he hears the endless clicking of her laptop and for the first time in his life, doesn’t feel like the workaholic half of a relationship.

They never define it as a relationship, seeing no need for explicit terms, much to everyone's chagrin. They have both been there before, tied down by expectations of certain labels and they cannot be bothered by it. This is a peaceful togetherness and no one's opinion can tarnish that. 

Of course, the only opinion he does care about is Jesse’s.

Jesse had needed no explanation, apparently the look on his face was enough. He still probes her though, she is his daughter and he needs to know that she is comfortable with this. She had shrugged and said, “All long as you are happy.” His heart had twisted at the look on her face, happy yet wistful, that came from a lifetime of sorrow. The years had passed and she had grown, but he would never stop wishing that her mother was alive. 

There would always be guilt, a companion like nothing else. 

He knew he wasn’t alone in this. Ronnie’s picture had disappeared from Caitlin’s nightstand and had been moved into the living room shelves. They made a point of not talking about their spouses, maybe because this was so new and delicate.

Or perhaps there is never any need to mention the ghosts that haunt them. They were already there- at every mealtime, every silent conversation, every night spent in her bed.

He hasn’t stopped learning things about her, feeling a secret thrill when he acquired a secret. She is not particularly tactile, but she does reach out to him when he slips into bed much too late. She’s usually half asleep but it does not stop her from extending an arm out as if to check if he was still in one piece.She retreats once she finds him, curling up into a ball on one side of the bed. 

She reads to him from Jane Eyre one afternoon, as they settle by the fire. The team has no missions and the pouring rain has everyone scurrying away into their own corners. They retreat to her home for a few hours, having mutually agreed to abandon their work for the day. Her voice is calm and mellow, accompanied by the sounds of the crackling fire and the rain, lulls him into a gentle sleep. 

A knock on the door wakes him with a jolt. He’s covered in a blanket and she is no longer reading out loud. He rolls his shoulders, stretching his upper body as she opens the door. His head snaps up when he hears his daughter’s voice, followed by her walking into the room, her hair damp from the rain. 

“Am I bothering you? I need to talk to you-” Jesse stops, her eyes landing on him. “Dad…Hi.”

“Are you ok?” He stands up as he feels panic surge through his body. Jesse looks around, taking in the fire, the rumpled blanket and upturned book.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt your…” Jesse gestures towards the couch, an uncomfortable look on her face. “I’m sure you both need some quiet so I’ll just go…”

“Oh, honey, you didn’t interrupt anything.” He says, urgently. “Other than a nap. What’s wrong? You wanted to talk to me?”

“Well…” Jesse hesitates, looking at Caitlin. “I came to see Caitlin, actually.”

“Oh.” He says.

“If you’re not busy.” She shrugs non-committedly. Caitlin nods instantly.

“Of course.” She gestures towards the adjoining room. “We can talk in the kitchen.”

He sits back down on the couch as they exit the room, a little dazed from what he had witnessed. Jesse had never been one to confide in him unless he coaxed her into it. She had always been so unwaveringly self-sufficient, a trait he shared, that it was disquieting to see her actively seek counsel. Caitlin would be the perfect person for this, he thinks as he reaches for the book. She and Jesse had less years between them and were both women. He keeps one ear trained on the other room, reminding himself to stay calm as he hears traces of their conversation. 

Wally comes up a number of times and he’s secretly glad Jesse didn’t approach him for this. As much as he loves to see her happy and in love, she will always be his little girl and he will never be used to the fact that she has a boyfriend. Then he actively tries not to listen to them because he cannot bear to impinge on Jesse’s privacy. Or worse, hear something he _really_ does not want to know about. 

He continues to read for a good forty minutes when Jesse walks into the room.

“Caitlin says dinner will be ready soon.” She nods towards the kitchen, jamming her hands into her pockets. 

“Are you staying for dinner?”

“If that’s okay.”

“Of course.” He answers instantly, the incredulity of her statement horrifying him. He clears his throat as he watches her take in the living room.

“So you’re okay?”

She turns to look at him and he feels a rush of anger and concern as he notices her puffy eyes. But she smiles and nods.

“Yeah, I am.” Jesse affirms. “Caitlin is… she’s a good listener.”

“She is.” He stands up, reaching out to tuck a curl behind her ear. “You can talk to me too, you know.”

“Are you jealous, Dad?” Her eyes twinkle and he releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “It was about Wally.”

“Everything alright?”

“Yes, it’s just….” She shakes her head. “We’re not used to factoring each other in when making decisions about the future. But we have to learn how to do it now, don’t we?”

Caitlin steps into the room, wiping her hands on a dish towel and her eyes soften as she takes them in.

“Yes, we do.” He swings his arm around Jesse and nods towards the kitchen. “Need help, Snow?”

The rain continues to pour as they eat and he’s struck by how natural this seems. Caitlin is acting as if this happens every night and his heart flutters as he watches them trade stories. Jesse sends a smile his way and a burst of reassurance settles over him. They try to persuade her to stay for dessert but she’s eager to get back to Wally. Whatever she and Caitlin discussed, it seems to have had a significant impact on her. 

“There’s an extra room, if you want to spend the night.” Caitlin reminds her.

“Thanks, Caitlin. I’ll take you up on it one day.” Jesse turns to him, reaching up to embrace him with a familiar urgency. He inhales sharply, his arms engulfing her petite frame as he is suddenly reminded of how Tess fit much the same way.

“I really am happy for you, Dad.” She whispers against his chest and he runs a hand through her hair. She speeds off into the dark of the night and he feels her absence hit him like a ton of bricks. 

Caitlin brushes past him into the room and begins to fold the blanket that was wrapped around him earlier that evening. He rubs a hand over his chest, as he watches the dying embers of fire flicker. She continues to move through the room with her practised ease and he struggles to find the right words.

“Thank you.” She turns and smiles at him, assuringly. 

“She’ll be alright, Harry.”

\---

She looks terribly delicate when she sleeps, much like a fairy resting amongst leaves covered with dew.

There is a freckle on her back, resting perfectly between her shoulder blades, as if someone drew it on her with deliberate precision. He’s grown accustomed brushing her hair aside and running a gentle finger over it on sleepless nights.

\---

He is a restless sleeper.

He tosses and turns more than he stays still but she doesn't complain. It’s a price she pays gladly to have him next to her. It’s astounding how he can function at his best even on four to five hours of sleep. 

He’s much more agreeable than she had thought him to be, now that they are spending time with each other outside of work. His biting humor is very much intact, but it’s different with her, softer even. He is less taciturn than usual, always up for a conversation. She likes to think that their new developments have made him feel more settled but Cisco is quick to point out that he is only this way with her. 

Of course, now she can’t unsee it.

He is gentle with her. He brings her a cup of tea when she complains about being cold. He drapes a blanket over her shoulders when she’s lost herself in a book with no intention of coming back to the world. He is the perfect house guest, lending a hand without complaints. He teases her incessant tidying, but helps clean up without being asked. He makes her waffles for dinner one night, after a particularly trying phone conversation with her mother. 

She is also surprised to find, pleasantly so, that he is quite affectionate. He runs a hand over her shoulders when no one is around at S.T.A.R. Labs. He reaches for her hand when they are in the comforts of her home, having understood that she prefers to keep these moments private.

Despite their insistence on not addressing anything at work, their friends are fixated on this new development. Joe watches them with an amused look, Barry and Iris with an endearing one and Cisco’s taken to making everyone uncomfortable with his comments.

“There should be a no-making out policy at S.T.A.R Labs, now that Harry and Caitlin are together.” He announces one afternoon, walking into the cortex with a comically serious look on his face. Caitlin, who was in mid sip, sputters Harry, on the other hand, continues scribbling on the board in front of him.

“We don’t care for an audience, Ramon. Besides,” Harry says, nonchalantly. “that rule would be more applicable to Ms. West and Allen.”

Cisco had gone two days before making another comment.

“It worked, didn’t it?” Caitlin asks. She had been trying to convince Harry to use a particular data analysis. It was a relatively novel method and Harry was hesitant to use it. She had made him sit with her as she worked on it, determined to quell Harry’s doubt. 

Harry sighs, sending a smile her way. “You were right.”

They share their findings with the team, all of whom were impressed with her work.

“You really are a brilliant scientist, Snow.” Harry comments as he walks out of the cortex to continue his work.

“Snow.” Cisco chuckles, watching Harry’s retreating figure. “Does he call you Snow in bed too?”

“Cisco!” Caitlin hisses, looking around to see if Jesse was within earshot. Barry shakes his head, running a hand over his embarrassed face.

“I don’t know why I said that.” Cisco mutters, eyes wide and slightly haunted look in them. “I don’t ever want to know any details about _that_.”

“I was never going to share them with you.” She huffs.

“I’m sorry. I just…” Cisco sighs. “I’m still adjusting to this. It’s going to take a minute.”

Cisco’s eyes are honest and despite their uncomfortable exchange, Caitlin knows that his behaviour was not out of malicious intent, but instead a defense mechanism. She forgets, sometimes how tightly wound her and Cisco’s lives are. She takes Barry and Cisco to dinner that night. They drink too much and laugh too loud and it feels nice to pretend that everything is how it used to be.

Harry still mostly calls her “Snow” and she is surprised at how much she likes it. When he had first arrived on this earth, he had referred to her as “Dr. Snow” for a few months. She doesn’t remember the exact event, though she had her suspicions, but at some point he decidedly dropped the “Dr.” and began referring to her as Snow. She had found the use of her last name utterly impersonal but now it feels like his own term of endearment for her.

She’s taken to calling him Harrison when she needs to get his attention. Although, it’s not hard to get his attention these days. He had always been stealthy about it before but now it seemed like a switch had gone off in his head. His deliberate gaze follows without any bashfulness, as if he’s suddenly realized that he is allowed to look at her this way. It’s overwhelming and intoxicating all at once but she revels in it.

She forgets that this Harry- warm and open and caring- is the same Harry who came to them with haunted eyes and a bittered tongue. The balance is restored a few days later, when she’s woken in the middle of the night by a whimper. She feels disoriented as she bats her eyes open. It takes her a second to make the connection and by the time she turns around, he is in the throes of a nightmare. 

“Harry!” She reaches for him, feeling goosebumps erupt on her flesh as his cries get louder. When her gentle touch does nothing, she shakes him with considerable difficulty because despite his lean appearance, he’s incredibly strong. His bare skin is soaked, she finds, as she gives him another shake. “ _Harry!_ ”

His eyes snap open and their glassy appearance sends a chill through her.

“Caitlin…” He whispers, his voice breathless and hoarse. He’s looking at her as if she were an apparition. 

“Hey.” She runs the back of her hand gently across her face. He follows the motion of her hand, his eyes wide and filled with agony. “You had a nightmare.”

It feels silly to even state it but he nods, shutting his eyes, as if this was the most natural occurrence.

“I’m sorry I woke you.” He shakes his head. “And I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“Oh, darling, don’t say that.” She rushes forward to press her lips against his forehead. “I’m going to get you some water.”

He’s sitting up and has slipped on a sweatshirt when she returns with a glass of water. His piercing gaze follows her as she turns on the lamp on her nightstand. 

“Thanks.” He takes a swig of the water and sighs, leaning his head back.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” She whispers. A sad smile comes over his face as he looks at her with uncertain eyes.

“It’s always the same one.”

“Jesse.”

He nods, looking into the empty glass of water as if he was searching for a lifeline at the bottom of it.

“Each time...” He says. “I never save her and she’s lost to me. He never tells me where she is or what he has done to her. He lets my mind go to the worst places and I…”

“You did save her.” She whispers. He nods again, it seems robotic now.

“The guilt. It never leaves you. You don’t feel exonerated no matter what you do.” He looks her straight in the eyes. “It’s going to haunt me forever.”

They make a pretense of going to sleep. He lays there staring at the ceiling, and she watches as his chest rises with each breath, in and out. The lines of his face seem less pronounced in the dark and she thinks of all the storms he’s weathered, only a handful of which she’s witnessed. He notices her watchful gaze on him and reaches over to squeeze her hand. She wishes she felt the reassurance that he is trying to convey, instead of this intense worry in the pit of her stomach. She gives up on any hope of sleep at four in the morning and stumbles into the kitchen.

It’s her turn to make waffles.

\---

They don’t talk about it and she cannot blame him for not wanting to give voice to those ghastly memories.

He seems hesitant to sleep in her bed again, she notices, as if some sacred ground had been desecrated. She tells him that they can sleep in the guest room if he would be more comfortable and the look on his face- awe, love, appreciation all wrapped up in one- makes her wonder when was the last time he had been loved enough to feel safe.

“I’ll be fine.” He whispers, letting her lead him into her room.

\---

Despite the fact that it was instrumental in bringing them together, they never talk about Flashpoint, skirting around it should the conversation travel that way. 

“That’s a little weird.” Iris comments, when she happened to share this with her. “Aren’t you curious?”

“It’s for the best.” She answers, not sure if she actually believes herself.

\---

“So he’s a metahuman with a device that turns time? Now where have we seen that before…” Cisco places a finger on his chin. She rolls her eyes, knowing very well where this is going, but indulges him nonetheless. And sure enough, Cisco snaps his fingers in fake pretense. “Here’s a hint boys and girls- it’s from Harry Potter!”

“Hermione wasn’t trying to destroy civilization, Cisco.” Barry points out, as Jesse nods vigorously.”

“Yeah, she had good intentions. And she pretty much saved the day in the end with her time-turner.” Jesse affirms.

“I’m just drawing parallels!” Cisco throws his hands in the air. “Sure, he’s no Hermione but he does have a device that drives his powers. And like the Time-Turner, it can turn time for whoever is using it. We figure out how to dismantle the device and we catch the guy.”

“Ok.” Harry huffs, drawing his arms across his chest. “It’s like all of you are all speaking in another language. Who is Herminone and what in the world is a Time-Turner?”

There is a pin drop silence as all eyes turn to Harry.

“Did he just...Please tell me he did not just say that.” Cisco’s eyes are wide as he turns to look at Caitlin.

“So they don’t have Harry Potter on Earth-2. No big deal.” Barry reasons.

“Oh, they do.” Jesse smirks.

“Maybe it’s a generational thing.” Cisco ponders. ‘You know cause you-”

“This is a waste of time.” Iris cuts in. “We can have a Harry Potter marathon later, let’s catch this metahuman first.”

Caitlin heads straight to her lab, as they all disperse to do their various tasks. Jesse joins her, lending a helpful hand as they devise a serum to protect Barry. Jesse has a natural talent for science, finding any holes in their work rather quickly and Caitlin can’t help but feel incredibly proud as she observes her. It’s an odd relationship at times, despite the strong affection she feels for Jesse, because it's not a maternal one nor are they friends. 

It takes them all day but working tirelessly, fueled by adrenaline and the threat of destruction seems to work for Team Flash and they catch the meta. The cortex is oddly quiet as she drops by to collect her bearings. She glances at her wrist watch as she walks into the cortex and almost doesn’t notice him behind the computer.

“Oh, hi.” She mutters, walking over to him. “Are you waiting for me?”

He nods, tipping back in the chair.

“Are you coming over?”

“If that’s alright.” 

As if, she thinks, he needs to ask. But she knows that he is a gentleman and would never assume he was automatically welcome in her space.

“What took you so long?” He grabs their coats, holding hers out to her.

“Cisco…” She sighs, sliding her coat on. “He needed more patching up than usual. Both physical and mental.”

“He did well today.” He comments. She looks at him over her shoulder, a cheeky smile on her face. “What?”

“You should tell him that.”

“Fat chance.” He scoffs. “His head does not need the inflation.”

“Harry.” She reaches over to straighten his collar. “We all need some validation every once in a while. He might not know it but he needs to hear it from you.”

He looks at her like he wants to say something, his eyes narrowed and head tilted. She can see that he’s talking himself out of it and prompts him, “What is it?”

“Do we need to talk about the age difference?”

“Age difference?” 

“ _Our_ age difference.” He states through gritted teeth. A sligh -and rare- flush appears on his face and she can’t help but chuckle.

“Yeah, I got that. Wait,” She exclaims. “Is this because of what Cisco said?”

“No.” He bites out, a little too quickly. She tilts her head, an eyebrow raised in disbelief. “Well, yes. You can’t tell me you’ve never thought about it.”

“I did, many months ago. ” She answers truthfully. “Before anything had even happened with us.”

“So it’s not an issue?” He asks. “That I am considerably older than you?”

“Not for me.” His line of questioning makes her wonder and she swallows. “Is it...it is a problem for you? My age?”

“Caitlin.” He tips his head back a little as he gives her a once over, slow and intense, as his eyes finally reach hers. “Do you think it is?”

It’s her turn to blush as he holds her gaze. He steps forward slightly, reaching over to toy with the ends of her hair.

“Make no mistake,” He affirms softly, his voice dropping an octave. “It is not an issue for me.”

She is still taken aback when he compliments her, regardless of how implicit the compliment may be. She wants to brush it off and act like it’s not a big deal but it is because this is not just any man telling her what he thinks she wants to hear, this is Harry. He has wanted her longer than she could have ever dreamed and he is allowed to tell her just as much. It’s oddly thrilling to know that underneath his stoic composure and intelligence, he is just a man in love.

“Let’s go home, old man.” She whispers and Harry barks out a laugh.

\---

They are not always perfectly in sync, considering that they are two individuals with many differences.

He is naturally argumentative and always needs to have the last word. She, while patient by nature, cannot tolerate bickering of any sort.

She tends to sweep things under the rug for days on end. He would happily discuss things to pieces but hates it when she rehashes things he had thought they had moved past.

One of their arguments spills into their workday and they misdirect Barry over the comms. Everything turns out alright in the end but as she patches Barry up she notices that Joe glares at them and Iris ignores them for a few hours.

She is horrified and nearly cries on the way home.

“That can’t happen again.” She mumbles, gazing out of the window at the cars speeding by. “We don’t have to agree on everything but let’s agree to keep our disagreements out of S.T.A.R Labs.”

“Agreed.”

\---

He can sense a palpable change in her by the first snowfall of the year. She keeps herself busier than usual, if that is even possible, often staying late in her lab to run test after test. The sound of her typing away on her laptop accompanies him everywhere- during coffee early in the morning, a quiet Sunday afternoon, even in the middle of dinner one night. He tolerates it with amusement for a few days and then he notices how withdrawn she is. She’s still Caitlin, all courteous smiles and polite conversation, so it does not stand out as much, taking him a few weeks to fully notice it. 

It’s the little things. 

She claims not to have an appetite but guzzles coffee like her life depends on it. She reads less, the pile of books on her nightstand remain untouched. She crawls out of bed at the oddest times and he finds her huddled under a blanket in the living room.

“I’m not sleepy.” She had said and all he could do was nod and ignore the rings under her eyes.

He should know by now how to breach the wall of ice surrounding her but he hangs back, hoping space is what she needs. He feels lonely and irritable as a result of the distance and chides himself for what seems like such a commonplace reaction. It’s strange how quickly he had gotten used to living his life intertwined with hers. He had been on his own for a terrifyingly long time and although he tried his best to keep Jesse around, he knew that she had her own path- one that would most likely lead her away from him.

But these few months with Caitlin seems to have rewired his brain. His quiet resignation to live a solitary life had completely disappeared.

She seems back to her usual self that day, even putting her computer away for the night and he is convinced that everything is back to normal.

He wakes up to the cold air of the morning and moans quietly. He reaches for the sweatshirt he keeps close by and glances at the window. His suspicions are confirmed as he sees a sliver of it open, letting in the treacherous air.

He follows the scent of her perfume to the kitchen where she’s pouring a coffee, fully dressed for the day. The black dress clings to her lithe frame, her curls are set beautifully and her face looks fresh, despite the fact that she had a fitful sleep. He is so distracted by her appearance, a cross between a goddess and an old Hollywood star, he almost forgets that he is annoyed with her. 

“You left the window open again.” 

She sighs, sliding the coffee pot over to him. “It was only a tiny bit. How are you not used to it yet?”

“Frigid temperature is something I need to get used to?”

“Must be an Earth-2 thing.” She sits down at the kitchen table, reaching for the newspaper. It was one of the things he had found so endearingly strange about her. She worked at an technologically advanced institute with metahumans yet still insisted on subscribing to _The_ _Central City Times_. “I like to wake up to fresh air in the morning.”

“But why can’t you get out of bed and open the window in the kitchen,” He gestures towards the window over the sink. “Instead of opening the window in the bedroom the night before?”

“Do you know how many versions we have had of this argument? It’s -”

“It’s not an argument, it’s a discussion.” He grumbles.

“- so ridiculous.” She finishes, flipping the newspaper open to the Arts and Leisure section. “You don’t have to stay here every night if it's so uncomfortable for you.”

He pauses with his coffee halfway to his lips, suddenly feeling the need to rub his chest in comfort as if she had stabbed him with a sword. He watches as the gravity of her words dawn on her face and has the good grace to look contrite. She bites a lip- painted a bewitching blush colour-and clasps her cup.

“I always leave a blanket out for you.” She reasons and he softens a little at that.

“I have been staying over a lot, haven’t I?” She opens her mouth to answer but he shakes his head. “Maybe you need some space.”

“I like having you here.” She exclaims, reaching out to rest her hand on his. 

He takes a minute to look at her. She is as beautiful as the first day he met her. But she seems to have the same impenetrable wall around her, much like that day. There is a strange, haunted look on her face. A look he had been deliberately ignoring for the past few weeks. 

“What’s going on with you?” He asks. He feels her hand begin retreating from his and he tightens his hold.

“Harry…” She looks away from him and he gives her hand a little squeeze.

“Please don’t insult my intelligence by telling me nothing is wrong.” He says, softly. She has the look of a cornered animal and he is almost certain she would lash out if he wasn’t being gentle. “You’ve been this way for a little while. I should have said something sooner.”

She shakes her head as she glances back at him.

“It’s... the season, the holidays, all the changes.”

He quirks an eyebrow at her because he’s fairly certain that she is not being truthful.

“All the changes?” He prompts. “Do you mean us?”

“It can be hard sometimes.” She shrugs. “This is...unchartered waters for us.”

He could have waited her out, thrown hints her way and beat around the bush some more but he doesn’t. He’s never pretended to be a patient man and he knows he can’t turn into one overnight.

“You’re lying.”

Her eyes flash with anger as she retreats her hand. He lets her go willingly, leaning back in the chair with his arms crossed. She gets up, grabbing her cup and walks over to the sink.

“I’m done with this conversation.”

“C’mon, Snow.” He retorts. “You are just being obstinate.”

“Don’t say that. I’m not a child.”

“Well, you are acting like-”

“And I didn’t realize I had to share every thought and feeling I was experiencing with you.” She tosses the remaining coffee down the sink. 

“Oh yes, God forbid you tell me how you feel about a damn thing. It would be the end of the world.”

“I’m leaving.”

“And you’re walking away, I’m shocked.” He calls after her. She emerges from her bedroom, clad in a red coat that looks striking against her skin and he hates that his heart flutters. “You’re _storming_ out?”

She doesn’t respond as she walks past him. She leans against the bookcase, bending one leg at a time to slip on a pair of heels and he has to force himself to look away.

“Where are you going this early?” He demands, standing up.

“Don’t forget to lock up.” She grabs her purse, altogether ignoring his question. She finally meets his gaze and there is more pain in her eyes than he expected. “And you can leave the window open since you won’t be sleeping here tonight.”

\---

Her perfume, which smells like fresh pine leaves and some berry he can’t recognize, lingers in the air and he shuts his eyes as he breathes it in. The first time he got a whiff of it was when they had worked on Velocity-9 and now he can recognize it instantly, often finding it on his own skin.

The memory of his first argument with Tess comes back to him vividly and it feels like he’s been punched in the stomach repeatedly. A door had been slammed (most likely Tess) and something had been thrown (d _efinitely_ him) and words had been tossed into the air like arrows.

Caitlin had closed the door so gently after her, he muses as he gathers his coffee cup. He much preferred if she had slammed it shut. He feels guilt flow through him as he remembers the hardened look on her face, mouth set in displeasure and eyes as cold as ice. It was his own fault, he tells himself in the shower. He shouldn’t be expecting her to turn into someone she is not. He had backed her into a corner which seemed to magnify the wall around her.

Still, it was hurtful to think that they had shared so much with each other in the past few months and yet her first instinct was to flee out of her own home.

Something twists deep within his chest as he realizes, while getting dressed, that she had mended a button on his shirt. He heads to her dresser to pull out a brush when he spies her phone on the nightstand. She had been forgetful lately, most likely due to the restless sleep. He pockets it, hopeful that he has something he can use to mend fences with her once he gets to S.T.A.R Labs.

The cortex is filled with a casual chorus of “good mornings” as he walks in but he stops short as he notices her lab is cloaked with darkness. He feels a hot twinge of panic, which most likely started brewing as he watched her walk out this morning. Perhaps she is making coffee in the kitchen or is in the workshop with Cisco.

But Cisco walks into the cortex a second later, clapping Harry on the shoulder as he settles down in front of the computer.

Harry clears his throat, taking stock of the situation and decides to swallow his pride.

“Has anyone seen Caitlin?” He does his best to keep his voice measured. Iris raises an eyebrow, Barry and Jesse shake their heads before returning to their conversation. 

“Are you kidding me?” Cisco’s face is impassive, but his eyes are laced with irritation.

“She left before me.” Harry shrugs.

“No, it’s….” Cisco sighs, leaning back in his chair. “It’s her father’s death anniversary today.”

\---

She nestles the cup of coffee between her hands and watches the snow flutter down from the sky. It looks innocuous and tempting, all at once. She has had the longest love affair with this particular weather, it is embedded into every part of her existence, much like the man she gets her name from.

She had wondered sometimes, if she would be as enchanted by her father, if he were still alive. Parents did, after all, have the tendency to disappoint the older one got.

A car pulls into the cemetery as she watches from the coffee shop, and she feels an instant tightening in her belly. She watches with bated breath as her mother slides out of the vehicle with some flowers in hand. Her slender frame is clad in the dark coat, her back ramrod straight and hair coiffed to perfection. The intense longing she feels as she watches her mother surprises her, forcing herself to bat her eyelids. She feels the desperate need for a hand to hold and that surprises her even more.

You didn’t have to be alone this year, she tells herself, he would have come with you.

She had noticed the way he had been watching her for a few weeks. He lingered in the shadows when he thought she wouldn’t notice. He had tried to get her to eat regularly, to slow down and take a breath when she was visibly anxious. It had been strangely alarming that he was so attuned to her, especially when she had refused to divulge anything. 

Her father would have been happy to see her loved like this. You are too apt to paddle your own canoe, Caity, he had said, running a hand through her hair. Everyone needs someone, he noted.

Harry would have gladly come with her today, no questions asked. But it had never even occurred to her to ask or even share what today was. It was terrifying to think she had turned into what her father had warned her against.

“It’s not too late.” She whispers to herself, as she sees her mother’s figure returning. Her mother’s posture is stoic but her face is crestfallen. She looks so terribly alone that Caitlin feels the urge to speak with her. 

She sighs, the urge leaving as swiftly as it arrived, as her mother’s car pulls away.

She remembers the last time they had been together on this day. Her mother had been curt, most likely using irritation to hide her pain. They had quarreled on the way over but as soon as they stepped foot in the cemetery, the whole world had stopped turning. They had stood in silence for a few minutes, holding hands in an unusual display of affection. No words were exchanged and no tears were shed in each other's presence. A few minutes later, they had ducked into this coffee shop and guzzled hot chocolates. She wondered if her mother ever thought about that day, sitting across from each other in forlorn silence, watching the snow trickle down.

“Hey, are you okay?”

She snaps her head away from the window swiftly to find the barista standing across from her table. He looked like he was in his early twenties, an apron tied over his snug sweater and jeans, a coffee pot in hand.

“Sorry, didn't mean to startle you.”

“Oh no…that’s alright, I was distracted by the snow.” She replies. 

“Are you okay?” He repeats, taking the opportunity to move closer to the table. 

“Yes, I am. Thank you.” A smile appears on his handsome face and his eyes brighten as she continues to look up at him. At some other point in her life she might have been swayed by his good looks and easy charm but as she looks at his face, she finds herself looking for dimples and smile lines. She finds herself wishing for electrifying blue eyes and a mouth that quirked up on one side in humour.

“Would you like another?” The barista, James as per his name tag, says. 

“No, thank you.” She gathers her bearings, trying not to notice the way he was looking at her. She stands up and he moves out of her way. 

She wraps her coat around her tightly, as the wind hits her with a gentle force. A quick glance at her watch tells her that it was barely eleven in the morning.

It’s your day off, she tells herself, go do something. There is no need to go home to wallow.

It’s empty anyway.

\---

She ends up at a movie theater.

The first movie is chock full of family drama, illness, and star crossed lovers, all of which turn her into a blithering mess within a matter of minutes. The second movie is an animated one and has her laughing in no time. It doesn’t take her long to realize that she needed to release all the emotions she had been so desperately holding on to.

She is in a lighter mood by the time she makes it to her apartment and then her last words to Harry this morning flash in front of her. She remembers the tightness she felt in her chest as she watched the hurt look on his face. She has half a mind to turn around and go see another movie when she hears a noise from the other side of the door. 

Her treacherous heart beats wildly as she slots the key into the doorknob, turning it and swinging the door open. 

“Back for round two?” He says nonchalantly, a glass of wine in one hand and a book in another. The fire is lit, adding a beautiful glow to the room. There is a record playing and she can smell something cooking in her kitchen. Her home looks warm and well taken care of, a stark contrast to the temperature and the mess it was this morning.

“Dinner’s in the oven.” He snaps the book shut, placing it on the coffee table. “I can draw you a bath if you’re cold. Or you can just eat and go to bed, I'll get out of your way.”

He must know, she thinks, as he gazes up at her. There is a look of sympathy and compassion on his face and she curses herself internally for her reticence.

"I’ve been vile, haven’t I?” She mumbles, unbuttoning her coat with one hand. He doesn’t answer her, just slides forward on the couch.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His face is impassive but she can hear the disappointment in his question.

“No one else knows. Cisco found out a couple of years ago, probably from Ronnie.” She slips her coat off, laying it down on the armchair. “I didn’t tell anyone.”

“I’m not anyone.” He says, voice low and laced with emotion. “If you think I am, then tell me. Because I don’t think I can bear to be just anyone to you.”

He looks hurt, terribly so and she loathes that she had a part to play in this. She swallows, trying to summon any ounce of courage that may be floating around in her.

“It’s hard for me to talk about his death. I’ll talk about Ronnie’s death over my father’s anyday” She says, eyes drifting to Ronnie's photograph on the bookshelf. “I didn’t expect that anything would be different this year. Everyone usually leaves me alone.”

“You weren’t eating, Snow. You were barely sleeping. Are you like this every year?” He asks.

“More or less.”

“And nobody notices?” He is unconvinced that a group of people who seem devoted to overstepping boundaries would not notice her.

“It’s not their fault.” She explains. “I don’t really give people a chance to be there for me.”

He nods, watching her with gentle eyes and she feels like an exposed nerve ending.

“I think…” He swallows, gazing into the fire as if bracing himself. When he looks back up at her, he looks sadder than she has ever seen him. “I think that you don’t trust me.”

His words slice through like a knife and she rushes forward, reaching for him instantly.

“Darling, that’s not true!” She cups his face in her hands and he closes his eyes for a second at her touch. “I do trust you! More so than I am able-”

“No, don’t.” He clasps her wrists as she continues to hold his face. “It’s my fault. If we had gotten together under different circumstances, you would have told me. But I hid Flashpoint from you for such a long time, so you can’t help but distrust me.”

“No, I-”

“I hid so much from you when I first arrived on this Earth. That seed of mistrust was sown then.”

“But we weren’t in a relationship then.” She points out.

“Oh come on, Snow. We were!” He exclaims. “We were doing some sort of a relationship dance before Flashpoint even happened. I may not have been sleeping in your bed, but we were each other’s before any of this started.”

She stills as his words settle over her. It’s as if she is watching all the dots from the previous year being connected in front of her, one by one. She’s about to say something when she watches his face erupt into a slight smile.

“We did some version of this in Flashpoint too.” He says.

“What?”

“We fought over you hiding your father’s anniversary from me.” He clarifies. She feels the instant chill flow through her at his words and drops her hands from his face.

“So…” She turns away from his gaze and towards the crackling fire. Her throat feels like a parched dessert, aching for the tiniest drop of water. “I’m meant to lose him in every timeline.”

It is with an odd mix of acceptance and sorrow that she says these words out loud. At least she won’t have to be jealous of herself from another timeline, she concludes as she watches the fire. It is in her destiny to always be a fatherless daughter.

She hears him shuffling and then he’s right behind her, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. His large hand lays against the small of her back and despite the hesitance in his touch, she feels the chill that had set in her bones begin to dissipate.

“Caitlin-”

“I’m not going to talk about him” She cuts him off, turning around swiftly to face him. “Not because I don’t trust you, but because there are some things I just don’t talk about.” 

He understands, she knows that well. But there is another point to drive home so she keeps a steady gaze on his eyes and takes extra measures to ensure her voice is calm and collected, “And I need you to be okay with that.”

“I am.” He answers and she widens her eyes in surprise as he has never been one to agree to ultimatums. He shakes his head at her expression and continues, “But I think you and I need to do a better job of trusting each other.”

She acknowledges his words with a nod, wondering what other boundary there is left for them to cross and asks, “How do we do that?”

He holds a gaze for a silent minute. He reaches into his pocket and for a split second her mind flips to a page buried far beneath the surface as flashes of a ring, a white veil and church bells flit through her mind.

She manages to compose herself as he pulls out a folded piece of paper. As he sets the paper straight, she realizes that it is in fact a photograph. He holds it out to her and as she reaches for it with trepidation, he says, “We need to talk about Flashpoint.”

\---

He makes them a cup of tea after dinner- most of which she pushed around on her plate-insisting that it must be peppermint. He seems to have a new fondness for tea, something he can credit her for.

“Why now?” She asks, as he slides the cup into her hands. 

“Because…” He sighs, sitting down across from her. “There are too many secrets between the two of us and this might be the biggest one.”

“What about the future? I thought you didn’t want Flashpoint to affect it.”

“It can’t go on like this, Snow.” He says, softly. “We need to be on the same page.”

“But you didn’t-”

“It’s not just me.” He interrupts her. She tilts her head, her eyes narrowed ever so slightly and he braces himself. “You were more than ok with not knowing the details of Flashpoint. Why is that?”

Her face is indestructible and he knows he has hit a nerve. Perhaps it’s one that she is discovering by the by, but it’s there nonetheless. His dishonesty has always been there, an undercurrent waiting to rise with a large wave.

“I thought it was for the best.” She explains. “Why let a different timeline affect this one?”

“You can’t even look at the photograph.” He remarks and watches her shift in her chair. She shakes her head, looking away instantly and he can almost glimpse the battle going on inside of her. “Look, Snow. I will not force you to listen if you are uncomfortable with it. But you told me, not twenty minutes ago, that you trust me, right?”

“I do, Harry. I do.” She says, her hazel eyes pleading.

“What are your reservations?” He asks, emboldened by her response.

“I don’t think I have any...other than what I’ve already told you.” She answers. “I know how the smallest of details can change a timeline.”

He has to concede her reasoning, especially since he shares it. It’s a little terrifying to wonder what could possibly change in the present but it’s even more terrifying to think that the trust he had tried to build could crumble at the slightest nudge.

“Why don’t you ask me what you want to know about Flashpoint?” He suggests. “And I promise not to divulge anything more than what you ask?”

She raises an eyebrow, taking a sip as she ponders his suggestion.

“C’mon. There has to be _something_ you’re curious about.” He prompts. “I know you know that you were a pediatric ophthalmologist. Why don’t we start there?”

A twinge of guilt troubles him as he baits her but then he sees the look of interest on her face and he smiles ever so slightly.

“Was I doing research?”

“Yes.”

“Is that how we met?”

“Not quite.” He leans back, taking a sip. 

“You’re enjoying this too much.” She accuses and he shrugs in response.

“How did we meet?”

“A conference at Central City University. You were presenting a talk on your research.” He clarifies. “It seems like bioengineering followed you into your ophthalmology career.”

“Did we work together?”

“I offered you a research position as soon as you finished your presentation.” He answers.

“Did I accept?”

“No.” A laugh bubbles out of her, quick and sharp, and he feels a hundred pounds lighter at the sound. ”Well, not initially.”

“So what about us? Were we married?” She asks, softly. He slides the photograph towards her and sighs in relief when she finally looks at it. He watches her face soften as she takes in the photograph of their wedding day. They are standing in a room- she is in a beautiful white dress, he is in a sharp tux- filled with a warm, candlelight glow. They are looking at each other, clearly in mid-laugh.

“This is….” She pauses, eyes raking over the picture. When she looks up at him, there is a bewildered look in her eyes and he offers a smile. He understands the sudden weight of this discovery.

“I know.” He whispers softly.

“Jesse?” She asks, biting her lip.

“She was there.” He feels a quickening in his chest when she sighs in relief. It’s touching to see her attachment to Jesse and he wonders if he will ever find the words to express his gratitude for that. “I guess she is mine in every timeline.”

She smiles now -a full and wonderful Caitlin smile - and he relaxes as he watches her fingertips run over the rim of the cup.

“Her mom?” She asks in a quiet voice. He shakes his head and smiles, not needing a mirror to tell him that it’s a rueful smile.

“I suppose I’m meant to lose her in every timeline.”

Her hand is on his instantly and her eyes are steeped with understanding. She knows this pain just as well as he does. It still hurts, almost a sharp twisting in his being, to think that Tess has the same fate is every universe. This pain is a constant in his life and has been a fire, driving him further towards success and failure and into this very corner of the universe, where he granted the gift of knowing Caitlin. 

He’s always hated this pain for bringing out the worst in him but now, as she sits across from him in the quiet of the night, he knows his suffering has brought him something he could never walk away from.  
  


\---

She doesn’t let him leave that night, clinging to him instantly when he suggests it. It's so uncharacteristic of her that he’s taken aback by the sudden and forceful show of affection. 

“Stay.” She pleads and he can feel his resolve crumbling when she is flush against him. He wants to- so desperately- but her words from this morning are on the forefront of mind and he doesn’t allow himself to forget the sentiment. She notices the hesitance on his face and sighs, “I’m sorry about what I said this morning. I want you here.”

“You can tell me if you ever need space.” He says. “I’m not going to be offended. Trust me, I understand.”

She looks up at him with eyes that look exhausted and he realizes the toll this day must have taken on her.

“You deserve a generous person to love you and I’m not that.” She whispers into the air between them. Panic courses through his body as he remembers that she has a tendency to duck and run for the hills. He forces himself to remain collected because he wants to nip this in the bud.

“This is it for me, Caitlin.” He reminds her and watches the realization dawn on her face at the familiar words. “There is nothing you can say to make me change my mind.”

He feels her body relax in his arms as she sighs, smiling softly.

“Stay.”

\---

Things mellow over the next few days and Harry feels relieved, as if they had weathered a storm and come out the other end to blue skies.

She is in a better mood, all soft smiles and lingering glances. While she had been rightfully aversive in the past about Flashpoint, she was now bursting at the seams with questions. He woke up one night to her frantically tapping him on the back and when he finally rolled over, he noticed that she had turned on the lamp.

“Did we have a dog?” Her eyes were wide and glassy and he desperately wanted to ask if she had been drinking.

“Really, Snow? This is what you woke me up for?”

“I just had this strong feeling that we had a dog.” She explains “So, did we?”

He stares at her in bewilderment.

“Yes. An Irish Setter.” He answers, watching her face light up. “We called her Bella. How did you...”

“I really can’t say.” She shrugs, mimicking his expression of confusion. He concludes that this must be some mystery of quantum physics that he has yet to unearth.

“The mind is a strange thing, Harry.” Cisco says, when Harry brings it up to him. “There could be a number of reasons why she remembers.”

“There is no _reasonable_ answer as to why she remembers our dog.” Harry sighs, attempting to curb his irritation. As a scientist, he rarely finds security in anything other than conclusive evidence. Yet, he’s learning each day, there really are mysteries that cannot be explained away. “Or how she knew I’m allergic to strawberries.”

“You’re allergic to strawberries?” Cisco asks, brow creased. “Maybe you mentioned it to her.”

“I did not. There are other things too.” Harry confirms. “She suddenly knew how I got the scar on my thigh. She’s seen that scar before and had never asked about it and I never spoke about it.”

“Is she dreaming of Flashpoint? We’ve seen that before.”

Harry shakes his head and watches Cisco slump back in his chair, hands coming to rest at the back of his head. “I have no idea, Harry. I mean, I could explain dreams or visions but the fact that Caitlin just knows these things as if they have always been a part of her? That I can’t.”

He recounts this conversation to Caitlin later that day and is shocked at how calm she is.

“I’m not bothered by it.” She answers, as she runs a spatula through a bowl. The snow is pouring down in big white clumps and she had insisted that cookies simply must be made this afternoon.

“How can you not be bothered?”

“I suppose it’s because we talked about it and Flashpoint is no longer this big mountain between us.” She explains. “I can always just ask you to confirm or deny whatever I’m curious about.”

He leans against the doorframe watching as she folds in a generous helping of chocolate chips. Something in her tone piques his interest, an innate sense that there is a question hanging in the air.

“Is there something else you are curious about?”

The clattering of the chocolate chips stops as she pauses her stirring to look at him.

“Now that you mention it, there is one thing.” She clears her throat. “Did we have children? In addition to Jesse?”

His heart warms instantly at the thought that she considers Jesse to be a part of their family instead of just his. She had never given him any reason to think otherwise but it still baffles him pleasantly that Jesse is front and center in Caitlin’s mind. But then he feels dread coil through him as he thinks of the question she has posed, the one question he does not want to answer.

“No, we don’t.” He answers. There is a knowing look on her face, not shock or hurt as he had expected. 

“Why?”

She is going to make me say it, he thinks. It takes him a second to realize that maybe she needs to hear it and he calls on every speck of courage to help him proceed.

“We couldn’t have them.” He braces himself for a reaction but she raises an eyebrow at him. You clench your jaw when you’re hiding something, she had told him once.

“You couldn’t have them.” He clarifies.

She nods and turns back to mixing the cookie dough. Her motions are fluid as before but her shoulders are squared. Even the air around them feels delicate and he’s uncertain about treading on this precarious ground. But he has to, he thinks as she works busily, scooping out little piles onto a baking tray. 

“Do you know…” He begins before suddenly getting the notion that he is impeding on her privacy. This was a conversation he had never intended to have, always considering it an inconsequential detail of Flashpoint. “I don’t want to overstep.”

“You’re not.” She reassures, her voice suspiciously measured. “I figured we would have this conversation at some point, just not this early. I suppose you and I haven’t been good at following a typical schedule.”

He chuckles, feeling the tension dissipate slightly and ponders her words.

“You can’t have children?” He asks, hating the accusatory nature of the question.

“I’ve had a suspicion for a little while.” She answers, sliding the cookies into the oven. “I would have to run more tests to be certain but it’s quite likely.”

She wipes her hands on a towel and finally looks over at him. She is always so unwaveringly strong that he forgets that she is made of flesh and blood too. He takes a step forward and her shoulders relax as he enters her vicinity.

“Should I have told you before we...got together?” She runs a light hand over his sweater clad arm.

“Of course not.” He replies instantly. “That has no bearing, whatsoever, on how I feel about you.”

She smiles, leaning up and he foolishly thinks, as her lips graze his jaw, that this is the end of this conversation.

\---

“Do you want more kids?” She asks later that night as they take a stroll through her neighborhood. It’s quiet, the weather has driven most people indoors, and the snow lights up the street in it’s own special way. He hates traipsing through weather of this sort but she had been so thrilled to share her tradition with him that he couldn't bring himself to do otherwise.

“To be honest….” He begins, reminding himself that his answer might not satisfy her. “It’s not really in the plan.”

She hums as she watches the snowflakes dance in the air. A deep burgundy scarf is wrapped around her neck with a matching woolen hat. She always looks amazing but something about her in this light, with a look of wonderment on her face has him even more enchanted than usual.

When she looks over at him, red cheeks against her alabaster skin, he acts on pure instinct and says. “But neither was Jesse. So...I’m not opposed. ”

“What about you?” Despite all the barriers they have crossed over the past few months, he has not been able to glean what her stance on having a family is.

“I’m open to it.” She answers. “Even though the thought of being a parent gives me considerable anxiety.” 

“You’ll be a great Mom.”

“Well, I didn’t have a great Mom so it is quite likely that I’ll be much the same.” She says, slipping her arm into the crook of his elbow. “Shall we head back?”

\---

She can tell that he is bothered by her fractured relationship with her mother but when he brings it up, casually suggesting that she should give her a call, Caitlin feels the old urge to shrivel away into her hole. He brings it up again a few days later, as they grab coffee at Jitters, wondering if she plans to see her mother during the holiday season. By his third hint, while she’s doing her makeup one Thursday morning and he’s sitting up in bed sipping on coffee, she has had enough. She drops her eyelash curler with more force than intended, and he jolts as a result of it.

“Why are you bringing up my mother?” She demands. He gives her a pointed look and she huffs, running a hand through her curls. “No.”

“I would like to meet her, Snow. You need to make up at some point-”

“No.” 

“Why?” He asks, arms crossed across his chest. She returns to her task, curling her eyelashes and reaching for mascara.

“You can’t go back from this, Harry, once you’ve met her.” She explains. “She will cut you with her words and I like having you around.”

“I can handle criticism.”

“Well, I can't. I’m not going to watch her tear you apart in front of me. ” She walks towards him, shaking her head vigorously. He watches her with quiet eyes, head tilted ever so slightly. “I won’t do it.”

“She’s your mother.” He reasons.

“Trust me, she is nothing like me.”

“You say ‘darling’ the way she does.” He says it so quietly that she almost misses it. She doesn’t need to ask how he knows. Suddenly, there is a twisting in her chest as she wonders if something that happened in Flashpoint had prompted him to try and mend her relationship with her mother. She wants so desperately to ask him but she halts, reminding herself that she cannot use Flashpoint as a crutch. She has known for years that she won’t heal until she lets go of some of the resentment that has made its way into her heart, where a mother’s love should be. 

“I know.” She sighs.

\---

She calls her mother that night.

It takes her an hour and two glasses of Pinot Grigio to work up the courage to pick up the phone. Her mother is taciturn, but not unkind. She ends the call with a timid goodbye and her mother mutters, “Goodnight, darling.”

She cries herself to sleep that night, grateful that he is not there to hear her sobbing.

\---

Jesse pokes her head into the workshop at 5 pm as he puts finishing touches on his project for the day. It has been a good day for them, having caught a meta-human in record time. A celebratory air hangs around S.T.A.R Labs even managing to draw Caitlin away from her work only to lean against his desk, distracting him more than he could care to admit.

“We are heading out for the night.” Jesse trots into the room, dressed in a winter jacket and a woolen hat. “We are going to grab dinner and head to the karaoke bar. Want to join us?

“Who is we?” He inquires.

“Me, Wally, Cisco.” Jesse answers. “Maybe Barry and Iris.”

“Pass.” 

Jesse pins him with an unimpressed look before turning to Caitlin. “How about you?”

“Thank you for asking but I think I’ll head home.” Caitlin answers, and he almost rolls his eyes at her politeness. Jesse nods her goodbye as she races out of the workshop.

“Not up for karaoke, Snow? You do have a wonderful singing voice.” He teases, having witnessed her rather unimpressive singing in the shower. She laughs, the sound clear as crystal and sharp as strings that he just has to look up at her.

“My goodness, no.” She says, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Not after what happened last time, no thank you.”

“Do tell.”

“Well, short version….” She begins. “I drank too much, sang karaoke with Barry- I was terrible, he was great- , threw up outside the bar and Barry had to take me home, help me change and put me into bed.”

“Oh, wow I didn’t think you would….” He stops instantly as something occurs to him. “Did you say Barry had to help you change?”

“Yes.” He feels uncomfortable, regretting his question instantly. She sees the look on his face and explains.“Oh gosh, no it wasn’t like that! I’m pretty sure he didn’t see anything, he used his speed-”

“You don’t need to explain, Snow” He says, hating the way his voice sounds gruff. “It was before you and I….” He gestures wildly at the air and she raises an eyebrow. “Either way, you don’t owe me an explanation.”

“If you say so.”

He gets up, collecting his things as silence hangs in the air. He had known about Ronnie and had to sit through the ordeal with Jay, but the thought of other unknown people in her past makes him uneasy. He tells himself to calm down and get a grip, there is absolutely no need for such a commonplace reaction. A strange thought occurs to him and before he can chide himself for it, he blurts “You and Allen...were you ever-”

“Oh my god, Harry!” She exclaims, her eyes wide with a terrifying combination of shock and annoyance. “No, of course not! I cannot believe you-”

“I know, I’m sorry.” He pleads. “I shouldn’t have gone there, that was just...I’m sorry.”

“There was never anything between-”

“Yes, of course. I don’t know why I went there.”

“Although...” She begins and he stills instantly to look at her. “There was this one time. Barry and I kissed.”

He feels an instant white, hot surge of jealousy course through his body. She’s talking again, something about a meta human having taken over Barry’s form, but all he can think about is throwing a punch in the air (or Barry’s face).

“Harry?” She moves to stand in front of him, gazing up at him. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” He clears his throat, once again loathing the way his whole demeanor has changed. He’s always had the inability to hide when he is rattled. If only he could borrow Caitlin’s poker face.

“Are you jealous?” She whispers, the slightest look of glee on her face. He wants to scoff at her because he is Harrison Wells, damn it, he doesn’t get jealous. But as she stands in front of him, clad in dark pants and a crisp collar peeking through her beige sweater, hair curled to perfection and cheeks adorably flushed, he has to concede that he is jealous.

“Yes.” He replies, curtly.

“That is...wildly attractive.” She confesses, mirth dancing in her.

“It is?” He asks, glad that he is not the only one with a cliche reaction.

“Well, don’t make it a habit. And let’s never talk about Barry like that _ever_ again.” She adds, her hand gliding down his arm. He inhales sharply, glad that the long sleeves cover the goosebumps that are erupting in the wake of her touch. “But you can be so aloof about...certain aspects of our relationship so I suppose I am a little pleased.”

He raises an eyebrow at her and she blushes redder than he’s ever seen her. She nervously runs a hand through her hair and stumbles through her words.

“I don’t care for possessive behaviour. However, it’s nice to see that you think of me as your...um, you know, that you’re affected by other-”

It’s as far as she gets before Harry decides that they were done talking and takes a step forward, crowding her against the desk.

\----

“You’re not dressed yet!” She exclaims, her voice more shrill that she means it to be. “You’re daughter’s going to be here any minute.”

“You need to calm down, sweetheart.” Harry sighs, shaking his head slightly as he places the pillows at the top of the bed. He makes the bed to her specifications, she’s noticed, without ever being asked. 

“I’m calm.” He gives her a pointed look before heading towards the shower. 

She had invited Jesse over to her apartment to decorate the Christmas tree. It felt like an odd request, considering that she had not decorated for Christmas since Ronnie died but Jesse’s face had erupted instantly with happiness. Caitlin had woken at first light and with a grumpy Harry in tow, had pulled the tree and decoration out of storage. She had been terribly nervous all morning. The kind of nervousness that was reminiscent of her first day of medical school, the first time she used a scalpel to cut skin, the day she interviewed with Dr. Wells. Anyone else would have scoffed at her- Harry included- but this felt like high stakes to her. She wanted Jesse to feel comfortable in her home and most importantly, she wanted the three of them to share an experience a family would.

Perhaps they did this in Flashpoint, she wonders as she pulls a batch of cinnamon rolls out of the oven. The helpless yearning to know about Flashpoint had withered away over the past few weeks. It wasn’t ideal that Harry knew so much and she had barely scratched the surface, but she is beginning to make her peace with the unknown.

Must be the holidays, she smiles to herself. Her phone dings as Harry emerges from her room, dressed in his usual black ensemble, hair slightly damp. He walks further into the kitchen, the clean, crisp familiar smell of his shampoo has her smiling wider. 

“It’s Jesse. She’s bringing Wally as well.” She informs him. “I suppose that is expected, they are inseparable.”

He huffs in clear annoyance, reaching over to pour a cup of coffee for himself and top her cup off. “If those two end up married before us, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

The cup shakes in her hand, the coffee spilling over and she squeals as the hot liquid travels over her skin. Harry rushes towards her but she brushes him off and puts her hand under the cold tap water.

“You...you want to marry me?” She gasps, wiping her hand with a kitchen towel. 

“Oh.” He says, wide eyed. “Oh Snow, I wasn’t… I was not proposing.”

“Good to know.”

“I _do_ want to marry you.” He affirms, brow creased. “Don’t you want to get married?”

“I don’t need marriage.” She says, glad that her voice retains it’s normal cadence, despite her rapidly beating heart. The air in the kitchen feels humid and she feels the urge to sink her head under the tap as well.

“That’s not what I asked you.” He has the look he gets before launching into a discussion and she wonders if she could feign a sudden illness to get out of this. There is a strangely vulnerable look on his face and she has to force herself to look away.

“I have nothing against it, of course. I just need you to know that I don’t _need_ it.” She clarifies. 

“But you think about us living together.” 

“How did you…”

“The shampoo.” He remarks. “It’s obviously not what you use on your hair. I know because I used yours once and was teased about it mercilessly.”

She chuckles, remembering the conversation and the way he had turned impossibly red. “Ok, I went out and bought your shampoo for you. So what?”

“So plenty.” He took a step forward, his hand reaching to brush her hair off her shoulder. “You want me to have my stuff here.”

“Would you?” She asks, biting her lip in trepidation. “Consider moving in with me?”

“Only if you consider making an honest man out of me.” He whispers, learning forward as the bell rings. He sighs, pressing his lips lightly against her forehead. “To be continued.”

She stands on a spot, a little dazed at the negotiation that had transpired and the sight and noise of Jesse and Wally trampling into her home is barely enough to snap her out of it. 

“What’s this?” Jesse asks, pointing at a measuring tape as Caitlin makes her way into the living room. Harry scoffs in response, rolling his eyes.

“Ignore him, Jesse.” She says. “You’re father’s a little mad because I won’t let him measure the tinsel.”

She relents eventually, letting him measure to his heart’s content. It’s a small price to pay to watch him light up much like the lights they hang up around her home. Cisco joins them an hour later, showering them with treats and coffee from Jitters, and announces promptly that he has no intention to lend a hand. Caitlin doesn’t mind especially as Barry and Iris, who followed Cisco in, are more than willing to lend a hand in the festivities.

It's a strange sensation, she thinks as she hands Wally some more lights to hang up, to have one’s house filled with such welcome and casual cacophony. The last time her home was this loud and busy was the night of her and Ronnie’s engagement party. It had been a warm evening, Dr. Wells had been more standoffish than usual and Cisco and Hartley had insisted on holding loud arguments all night. But she had a ring on her finger and Ronnie’s reassuring arm around her and she felt as if she could conquer just about anything. 

Marriage did not hold the same charm anymore, she muses, watching Harry and Jessie discuss the aesthetic placement of the decorations. A piece of paper or a ring seemed laughable when Harry had already, in a short period of time, loved her in a way that seemed immeasurable by the world’s standards. He had been a balm to her bruised heart, slowly chipping away at the wall of ice that surrounded it. They have made a haven together within these walls, she thinks. A port in a storm.

“Hey, you.” Barry sidles up next to her, watching her with a curious look. “You’ve been quiet.”

She hums a response, turning to open another box of decorations. Barry lends a hand, reaching in with gentle fingers to pull out two delicate glass ballerinas.

“These are beautiful.” He remarks.

“My last Christmas present from my father.” She looks at him and he nods in his typical wistful manner. Their shared grief hangs in the air, uniting them as only the loss of a parent does.

“Cait…” He begins. “I am really happy for you. I need you to know that.”

He looks sincere, yet saddened and she immediately knows what he means. She reaches upwards, wrapping him in a hug as her eyes drift over to Ronnie’s picture on the bookshelf. She knows Barry will always carry the guilt of Ronnie’s death but even worse, is haunted by the life that she and Ronnie could have had. She feels a twinge of guilt as well as she considers that Ronnie would never get to experience the privileges that she does.

“You are the only one besides him, who calls me that.” She whispers, easing back to her feet. 

“I know.” He chuckles, shaking his head. “What does Harry call you?"

“What do you think?” She raises an eyebrow, daring him to comment. They share a laugh and he squeezes her shoulder before he walks away to join everyone else.

“They are making plans for lunch.” Harry comments as he takes the empty box from her. “So much for a quiet Saturday.”

She looks up at him and can tell that under his veneer of disapproval- a very thin one-he is pleased. A smile pulls at his lips and he has a look on his face, as if in daydream, as he watches the people in the room argue about their lunch orders.

“You love it.” She comments. “Don’t even bother denying it.”

“God, help me.” He sighs, looking over at her. “What have you turned me into, Snow?”

“This is who you have always been, Harry.” She smiles, as his staggering blue eyes soften. “You just needed to find it.”

“I needed a jolt to wake me.” He says, his voice low and sincere. “But I’d like to think I woke up in time.”

The world goes still around them- their friends, the arguments, even the snow. His words suspended in the air like a sacred vow, and she is shocked at the chilling certainty she feels in her bones. It feels tangible, rocking her to the core, like nothing else she has ever known.

Or ever will know again, she tells herself.

“You did.” She whispers. “We both did.”

\---

_It’s an unusually warm autumn day._

_The tie around his neck feels like a noose and he has to stop himself from reaching to untangle it. You need to look the part, Cisco had insisted. He personally couldn’t care less about what he wore, but these events tend to have some media presence and his team was adamant that CEOs did not dress like the apocalypse was on its way._

_The sound of voices bombards him as he walks through the glass doors. He hasn’t set foot in a university for a few years and the rush of students and his fellow conference attendees makes him want to hightail it out of here. He sighs, bracing himself as he approaches the guides - bored students who would rather be anywhere but here- to ask for directions. They are as helpful as he expected them to be (not!) and by the time he’s headed to Conference Room B, his patience is wearing thin. He glances down at his watch while maneuvering himself amongst the crowd and promptly walks into someone._

_Instinct has him reaching forward, his hands clamping around the arms of a young woman._

_“Sorry, I was-”_

_“Not watching where you were going.” She finishes, as she straightens her crisp shirt which is ucked into a black skirt. There is a hint of annoyance in her voice and her shoulders squared._

_“Oh God, I’m- I’m sorry, that was rude.” She continues. “I’m not usually rude, I’m just a little-”_

_“Tense?” He prompts and watches as she narrows her eyes, pursing her lips, painted a disarming shade of red, and draws herself up to her full height._

_“You can let go of me.” He raises an eyebrow and she nods to where he’s still clutching her arms. She takes a step back when he releases her, and he is startled at how much he likes the soft, fresh scent of her perfume. She watches him, her hazel eyes slightly curious and he wonders how much he can delay the inevitable._

_“I am really sorry for walking into you, Ms....?”_

_“Dr. Snow.” She says, assuredly and he doesn’t miss the glint of pride in her eyes._

_“Dr. Snow.” He nods, reaching a hand out. “I’m Harrison Wells.”_

_She blanches and he braces himself for what might follow. Her eyes do a quick once over, which has his pulse racing more than he would care to admit, and she clasps his hand._

_“Of course.” She says, in a hushed voice. “You’re Dr. Wells of S.T.A.R Labs.”_

_“Guilty.”_

_A small smile tugs at her lips, the look on her face slightly dazed._

_“You can let go of me.” He smirks. She drops his hand like a hot brick._

_“I know-”_

_“Caitlin!” A voice bellows from the conference room and she inhales sharply._

_“I have to go, please excuse me. “ She says, swinging her purse over her shoulder. “It was nice meeting you, Dr. Wells.”_

_“And you.” He smiles._

_I hope to see you again, he thinks as he watches her stride into the packed conference room._   
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I apologize for any "science" related errors (vibe, prefrontal cortex etc.) Thank you for reading.


End file.
